


Aristos Archaion

by TrebleandBass (May_Seward)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Basically the TSOA AU no one asked for, Chris' boyfriend is called Philip btw, F/F, I was going to make viktor's father Peleus but i change his personality a bit ooops, M/M, Paris is played by himself, Trojan War AU, Viktor is Achilles, Viktor is a demigod, Yuuri is Patroclus, classics au because I know more about the trojan war than I do about ice skating, i am trash for this ship, whoops, will add more character/ship tags as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_Seward/pseuds/TrebleandBass
Summary: History would know him as "the best of the Greeks" but Yuuri just knew him as "Viktor".Or: Viktor is Achilles, Yuuri is Patroclus and the City of Troy may be where they make history but their story starts long before then in a palace by the sea.





	1. You would follow

**Author's Note:**

> Okay SO if you haven't figured it out already, this fic is based on the legend of the Greek hero Achilles (the Original Gay Icon) and the story of his life BUT I am intending to take many many many liberties with this so if any classics nerds are reading this please don't expect this to be accurate in any way, shape or form.
> 
> Also, for any Takeshi fans here, I'm sorry.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> M xx

At first, when Yuuri thought of Viktor, he thought of the runner. Long legs blessed with godlike grace and power, the rhythmic thud of his bare feet hitting the earth, silver hair and golden circlet shining under the sun, a beacon of light amongst his dark haired companions. Rumours circulated that he was the son of a goddess, a spirit of the sea, and Yuuri remembered watching him run for the first time and realising exactly why. As he streaked down the track to triumph, bolstered by the roar of the watching crowds, he seemed to glow in his own right, even under the bright midday sun. Even as Yuuri watched from the side as his father placed the laurels of victory delicately on his head, he seemed untouchable, divine. The sort of boy it was impossible to take your eyes off.

It was more than his royal status as the son of the king of Phthia, it was something entirely his and his alone. Royalty personified.

The king of Phthia was known to take in strays - for a price. Boys who were rejected or shamed into exile from their own kingdoms, the orphans of wealthy families. Yuuri's own kingdom was an ally of sorts to the Phthians and had been for a long time. It made sense that Yuuri would be sent there when his own father, his king, abandoned him.

Yuuri still dreamed about the incident sometimes. The accusatory stares, the sight of blood on his hands, the way the boy choked on it as he died. The awful noise that escaped his lips in a death rattle, the way his eyes had glazed over until there was nothing but emptiness in his gaze. He remembered the disappointed look on his father's face, the way he had spat the words _idiot boy_ from his lips so naturally, like it was the name he had been born with. His stomach would twist as more words inevitably followed, echoing through his mind; _simpleton... worthless... murderer... pig..._

And then, Yuuri would wake up, sweaty and nauseous, to the bright sun of early morning.

This time, it was to be greeted with the side of a small cart, rocking back and forth as it journeyed down a country road, the mountains of Phthia bearing down on him. Yuuri could almost feel them on his shoulders, like he was Atlas, holding them aloft lest he be crushed by the weight of the sky.

‘I will leave you here,’ came a gruff voice and Yuuri sat bolt upright. They were at a crossroads. The mountains lay ahead, fields either side. The cart was pulled to the edge of the dirt road, it's driver watching him with beady suspicious eyes.

‘Oh!’ Yuuri exclaimed and fumbled around the cart, gathering his scant belongings. ‘Th-Thank you,’ he offered the driver a few drachma, all he had left, and disembarked.

‘The palace is that way,’ the driver pointed to the mountains, angled slightly to his right. ‘Follow the road, it will curve around until you come to the bay. You can't miss it.’

“Thank you,’ Yuuri repeated. The driver nodded once and set off again, leaving Yuuri alone.

* * *

The road did just as the driver had said, skirting the roots of the mountains like a seam connecting them to the earth. Yuuri followed it, shuffling along the dusty path, stones getting caught in his leather sandals. When he finally rounded a corner and was greeted with the sight of the Aegean Sea spread out below him in all its glimmering glory, his feet were beginning to blister and his dark hair was plastered to his face from the intense summer heat. His destination, the palace by the sea was a grand house nestled between the planes of the hills behind it, looking out over the bay. The sun was lowering in the sky now, it's rays reflecting off the smooth marble columns. Yuuri allowed himself to take in the sight. It wasn’t home, but it was beautiful all the same.

Up close, the palace was even more intimidating. The columns stood tall above Yuuri’s head, casting long shadows under the evening sun. The wooden doors swung open at his approach. Guests were always welcome here, Yuuri remembered, the king of Phthia being more pious than most - which was saying something indeed.

Yuuri felt like he was entering a temple as he passed over the threshold, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, treading on sacred ground. The feeling was intensified as he spied the unmistakable hubbub of court, men sitting around, drinking and talking with joy on their faces, servants bustling between them carrying food and wine, and in the center of it all was the man Yuuri was there to see. The king himself.

As he spied Yuuri enter, he raised his hand and abruptly the talking ceased. ‘Yuuri, prince of Hasetsu,’ he guessed. His smile was neither kind nor welcoming. Yuuri accepted his fate, acknowledging the title for what it was, a mockery, with his head bowed.

‘Yes, sir.’

The king sat back in his chair and regarded him with a critical eye. ‘I received your payment just this morning. Your father explained the situation.’ He snapped his fingers and a servant stepped forward without a word. ‘Show our new resident to his barracks,’ he ordered. ‘Welcome to Phthia,’ he smirked, and Yuuri accepted the dismissal in silence, following the servant out of the hall.

* * *

That night, Yuuri was introduced to the rest of the boys. The palace courtyard where they gathered seemed to Yuuri to be an imitation of the halls inside. The younger boys ran to and fro, playing games and laughing. The older ones were gathered around a large rectangular table, talking amiably over wine, telling jokes and slapping each other on the back like that had been friends all their lives. The whole place seemed alive and joyful in a way Yuuri had never experienced before.

Presiding over it all at the head of the table, as much of a king as his father seated in the hall, was Viktor.

Yuuri recognised him right away. The way the moon reflected off his silver hair like the sun sparked off the seafoam, the way he held his head high, wore his skin like armour, untouchable, almost statuesque among the bustling activity of the other boys. Everything was familiar, everything about him was just as Yuuri remembered from the races so, so long ago when everything had been different. His smile was one-sided and he watched the gathering with a raised eyebrow and piercing blue eyes, intelligent, taking in everything at once. When those eyes found him, Yuuri couldn't help but look away. There was an unfathomable, yet undeniable power to that look that didn't make sense, couldn't be explained and it made Yuuri's heart race.

“Who are you?” Viktor asked quietly, but it was loud enough to silence the entire gathering and suddenly all eyes were on Yuuri. He quailed under the scrutiny, wished he could run away to his room and hide, but Viktor's eyes had him rooted to the spot, no more capable of movement than the marble statue of Zeus that took up the center of the courtyard or the olive tree that no doubt shaded Viktors end of the table from the noonday sun.

Yuuri’s stomach clenched. Viktor didn’t remember they had met before, at the games hosted by Yuuri’s father. He didn’t recognise Yuuri, who had stood by his father’s side as laurels had been placed on Viktor’s head. Didn’t remember...

“What is your name?” Viktor inquired again, his voice remained casual, curious, but his eyes were unwaveringly intense.

“Yuuri,” Yuuri murmured quietly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My name is Yuuri,” he said louder and this time, Viktor inclined his head.

“Welcome Yuuri. My name is Viktor.”

“I... I know,” Yuuri mumbled because really, who didn't know of Viktor, Prince of Phthia?

With that, Viktor returned his attention to the boys in his immediate vicinity. Yuuri selected the most empty table and followed the other boys’ lead, filling himself up on wine and figs. Some of the boys introduced themselves, curious about the new arrival, but Yuuri wasn’t really paying attention, too busy attempting to avoid Viktor’s searching gaze.

He didn’t want to talk to Viktor right then, his failure so fresh on his mind. Not that Viktor would want to talk to him anyway.

Right?

* * *

It didn’t take Yuuri very long to realise that the king’s so-called “orphanage” was really a military camp. The boys spent their days training with various weapons in the morning, then wasted their afternoons on the beach, swimming in the secluded waters of the bay or racing along the sand. Yuuri couldn’t find it in himself to join them, preferring instead to observe the excitement from afar, leaning against the trees, watching idly, trying not to think of the circumstances that had lead to his situation.

Viktor never joined them.

The king’s son was elusive, his education for his eyes alone. He neither trained with the boys in the morning or participated in their afternoon escapades. The only time Yuuri saw him was at dinnertime, when Viktor was surrounded by others, all clamouring to impress him, to distinguish themselves as his friend, as a companion, hoping to be chosen as his _therapon_ , the future advisor and companion to a future king.

Yuuri watched it all happen from a distance, never looking too long, hoping not to be noticed. It was lonely, but it was safer, in his opinion, to stop himself from being caught up in the desperate attempts to procure a position by Viktor’s side.

Yuuri knew how toxic court politics could be.

Despite his sincere attempts to remain inconspicuous however, Yuuri’s story didn’t stay unknown for long.

‘Hey,’ a boy nudged him across the table one evening. Yuuri thought his name might be Emil. ‘I heard you killed a boy. Is it true?’

Yuuri dropped his bread and choked. ‘What? I-I... Uh...’ he tried to stutter his way through a dismissal, but a stone had settled itself in his gut. ‘No, it-’

‘What was his name?’ Another boy asked.

‘Takeshi?’ Another supplied. Yuuri couldn’t breathe.

‘Yeah! I think that was it!’

Yuuri stood up sharply, shaking the table with a crash. The entire courtyard fell silent. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s eyes watching him. ‘It was an accident!’ he said, his voice far too loud in the sudden quiet. He felt tears prick at his eyes and tried to regulated his breathing. ‘E-Excuse me,’ he muttered and fled, not stopping until he reached his room, flinging himself onto his cot.

 _It was an accident_ , he reminded himself, but the gnawing guilt ate away at his stomach. That night, he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri did not turn up for breakfast. He hid in his room for as long as he could, slipping down half-remembered corridors, fleeing the sound of voices until they faded into something much more insidious.

_Idiot boy... Worthless... Disappointment... Pig... Murderer..._

A sharp knock was what finally jolted Yuuri back to the present. Taking in his bearings, he found himself holed up in some long forgotten storeroom, the smell of oil and dust heavy in the air. For a moment, he couldn’t place what had dragged him from his waking nightmare, but then someone rapped on the door again and Yuuri realised he had been found.

The person on the other side of the door didn’t knock a third time, just wrenched the thing open and Yuuri found himself face-to-face with Viktor himself.

‘There you are, Yuuri,’ Viktor said, something like relief or triumph in his eyes and Yuuri gaped in astonishment at the fact that Viktor even remembered his name, let alone had been trying to find him. ‘You missed your morning drills,’ he continued, relaxing into a more casual posture. ‘My father wants your head.’ His lean body somehow managed to take up the entire doorway without trying, one arm leaning against the frame, hip cocked confidently. His long hair had been tied back, but wisps of it had escaped, flopping in long ropes over one of his bright blue eyes. He painted a distressingly pretty picture. ‘Have you been here all this time?’

Yuuri struggled to find his voice. ‘But... I... _how_?’

Viktor frowned at him. ‘You’re not ill are you?’

‘No.’

‘Then you’re in big trouble. Father is very strict with his training schedules.’

‘Why weren’t _you_ training then?’ Yuuri snapped, one eyebrow raised. His emotional state making him reckless. ‘Or are you exempt?’

Viktor smirked. ‘I might be.’

‘Of course you are,’ Yuuri muttered. ‘Why don’t you just say I was with you?’ he challenged. ‘You’re the prince.’

Viktor brushed a forefinger over his lips, apparently in thought. ‘I could, but...’ he narrowed his eyes on Yuuri, something dangerously like mischief brewing in them. ‘I don’t like lying to my father.’

Yuuri inwardly cursed his luck.

‘Come with me,’ Viktor said suddenly.

‘What?’

‘Come with me,’ Viktor repeated. ‘To my next lesson. It’ll be fun! Then I won’t be lying.’ Yuuri tried to say something, but Viktor had already leaned into the tiny room and taken Yuuri by the hand. ‘Come on!’ he laughed and pulled Yuuri to his feet. Yuuri had no choice but to follow.

Viktor lead them down more hallways into parts of the palace complex Yuuri had never been in before, past the much grander residential chambers of the royal family into another sunlit room.

The place was littered with chairs and couches, a lyre sitting against one wall, a pair of flutes resting on a table.

‘I’m ready for my music lesson!’ Viktor announced as he and Yuuri burst into the room. The elderly man sitting behind a desk by the large windows overlooking the sea barely looked up from his work. ‘He’s going deaf,’ Viktor murmured to Yuuri, grin spread across his face.

‘Then how does he teach you music?’ Yuuri whispered back.

‘He doesn’t,’ Viktor replied. ‘I don’t need music lessons anymore, I just play around a bit.’

Yuuri frowned. ‘Oh.’

Viktor made his way across the room, only dropping Yuuri’s hand to pick up the lyre Yuuri had spotted earlier. He settled himself down and looked up at Yuuri, still standing awkwardly. ‘Do you play?’ he asked. Yuuri shook his head. Viktor didn’t seem disappointed, on the contrary, his eyes lit up and he patted the empty spot next to him on the seat. ‘Let me teach you.’

Viktor settled the lyre in Yuuri’s lap and started explaining about the strings, stroking them in demonstration every now and then. He taught Yuuri an easy riff, coached him patiently through the fingering until Yuuri could play it somewhat competently and then began to sing a slow beautiful melody. He stood from his position and began to move through the room as he sang. Yuuri watched, entranced as Viktor did his little performance, not faltering once, even when Yuuri accidentally played a wrong note or plucked a string hard enough it twanged. Once again, Yuuri was reminded of the rumours that followed Viktor the way the wind followed the sea. He was once again the boy Yuuri remembered from the first time he had seen the prince, ethereal, touched with godlike beauty and grace. He was different from all those years before though, less invulnerable, less separated from the rest of the mere mortals in his presence. He seemed more innocent somehow, his smile genuine and light, infectious in his joy.

When the song finished and Viktor faced Yuuri in a low bow, eyes laughing at him, Yuuri just sat and stared for a moment.

‘Amazing,’ Yuuri said finally, the first time he had volunteered any sort of conversation in Viktor’s presence.

‘Thank you, Yuuri,’ Viktor replied. He glanced out of the window and sighed. ‘We have been long enough I think. Let’s go and see my father.’

Yuuri’s stomach clenched again as he remembered the reprimand the king surely had waiting for him.

Viktor either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to care, because he just removed the lyre from Yuuri’s lap and swept him back onto his feet, dragging him down the hallways once more.

* * *

‘Viktor!’ the king boomed as Yuuri and Viktor entered the reception hall where the king spent most of his time. ‘I see you found the runaway.’

‘I found him because he was with me, father,’ Viktor replied without hesitation. ‘We have just come from my music lesson.’

The king eyed Yuuri with suspicion. His eyes were a dark brown, Yuuri noted, so unlike Viktor’s bright sea-blue eyes that it was a wonder the two were related at all. Standing next to each other, they were marble and bronze, similar features but opposite in colouring, Viktor fair where his father was dark.

‘Why?’ the king asked after a moment, attention directed back to Viktor.

Viktor squared his shoulders and glanced over at Yuuri for a moment, but the look was gone before Yuuri could pick it apart. ‘I wish for him to be my companion,’ Viktor announced. No, not _companion._ _Therapon_. Yuuri gaped at the boy’s back in astonishment.

The king had a very similar expression on his face, but he schooled it far quicker than Yuuri could. He raised an eyebrow at his son. ‘Why him?’ he asked in measured tones. ‘You have so many boys to choose from.’ _So many better boys_ , echoed through the silence following the king’s statement, unspoken.

The little Yuuri could see of Viktor in that moment tensed slightly and Yuuri waited for his answer with baited breath.

‘He was the only boy to surprise me,’ Viktor answered. ‘A _therapon_ is supposed to advise and assist. I do not need two of me. I especially do not need someone trying to _become_ me.’

The king sighed as if reluctantly agreeing that Viktor had made a good point. ‘Very well. Yuuri is excused from the day’s activities. You both may go.’

Viktor bowed his head. ‘Thank you, father.’

The king nodded. As the boys turned to leave, the he called out, ‘Viktor?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you sure?’

Viktor looked at Yuuri for the first time since announcing his decision. There was a curiosity to his gaze that Yuuri struggled to breathe through. ‘I am.’

‘Apologise to Celestino, won’t you?’

Viktor nodded and smiled. ‘We will.’

The king let them go without another word and Yuuri fell into step beside Viktor, so many questions on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t speak any of them out loud. He had the insistent feeling that his life had just been drastically, fundamentally changed and he had not a clue as to what to feel about it.


	2. Where I do go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't intending to update this until sunday but *shrugs* I was a little bit ahead of schedule and might have a busy weekend ahead so you're getting chapter two on friday instead.  
> It's a little shorter too, but oh well...
> 
> WARNING: blood/death in this chapter as Yuuri relives Takeshi's death in a dream. I don't go into /too/ much detail but if you don't like it, I won't be offended if you skip it or anything.  
> Enjoy!

It wasn’t until that night that Yuuri began to accept that  _ this was really happening _ . He and Viktor parted ways soon after their conversation with the king and for the first time, Viktor looked almost apologetic, but there was still that burning air of curiosity cloaking his shoulders that made the unspoken apology sound more like it was meant more for himself than Yuuri. 

‘You can’t come with me for this next lesson,’ Viktor sighed. His mournful expression didn’t last long however, spreading into a grin that Yuuri was quickly attributing to Viktor as his signature expression. ‘Go and join the other boys for the afternoon and don’t tell anyone what just happened.’

The way he had said,  _ don’t tell anyone _ sounded like a test with implications Yuuri couldn’t see. It twisted uncomfortably in his gut. Was he supposed to obey? Disobey? He couldn’t be sure. Obedience came easier to Yuuri in this instance however, since not telling anyone about his newfound position was easiest when Yuuri wasn’t telling anyone anything at all and that was something he had gotten very good at since his arrival in Phthia. Moreover, Yuuri realised he didn’t  _ want _ to tell anyone, wanted to keep this knowledge as just something between himself and Viktor for a little while longer. Or perhaps he was just afraid that telling anyone would break the spell, would make Viktor change his mind or laugh in his face and say that it was all a joke, because how could Yuuri have ever really have expected to stand out to Viktor at all?

When he saw Viktor next, it was dinnertime. Viktor was already seated at the table, among his usual entourage of adoring boys, when Yuuri entered the courtyard. Upon sighting him, Viktor stood and waved. ‘Yuuri! My favourite companion! Come!’ He beckoned Yuuri with his raised hand, arm outstretched in a gesture that could not be mistaken for anything other than an invitation. 

Wide-eyed, Yuuri obeyed as Viktor cleared the spot to his right. A hush seemed to fall over the court then. The gathered boys recognised the symbolism, seemed to understand that something momentous was taking place before their eyes. All Yuuri wanted was to curl into a ball, almost prayed that the earth would crack open and swallow him whole just so he could avoid the accusatory stares from his peers as they watched him take his place at Viktor’s side. Viktor slung an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, his body language clear:  _ I have made my choice. _

Some of the closer boys leapt to their feet, their collective reactions falling somewhere between jubilant and indignant. Of course, nobody was going to argue with the Prince. If he had made his decision, no one was brave enough to question it - at least not to his face. Yuuri was pestered with questions, suddenly more popular than he had ever expected to be. He fielded the majority of them with non-answers or honest ‘ _ I don’t know _ ’s as much as he could, but the inquisition left him feeling exposed in a way he didn’t like.

Finally,  _ finally _ , the food disappeared into hungry bellies, the boys became bored with Yuuri’s unhelpful answers and Viktor rose from his seat at the head of the biggest table. With a gracious word in farewell, he took Yuuri’s hand and the two made their way back through the halls of the palace.

‘I ordered your cot to be brought into my room,’ Viktor explained when Yuuri opened his mouth to ask where they were going. ‘I thought it was the best way to get to know each other. Properly, you know?’

‘You’re serious about this,’ Yuuri noted, an odd feeling of numb acceptance settling over him. ‘You want this.’

Viktor stopped for a moment and looked Yuuri dead in the eye, head cocked slightly as if trying to puzzle Yuuri out. ‘Of course I am serious,’ he replied. ‘This isn’t the sort of thing I would do lightly. This isn’t an impulsive decision.’

‘But...’ Yuuri yanked his hand out of Viktor’s as he started down the corridor again, causing the other boy to spin around to face him. ‘But I’m no one. I’m not even a prince anymore. Why me? I’m nobody.’

‘Oh, Yuuri,’ Viktor murmured, surprisingly gentle. ‘I don’t believe that for a second.’ His smile was surprisingly soft and genuine when he took Yuuri’s hand again. ‘I wouldn’t do this for just anyone. I want to know everything about you, Yuuri. This was the only way I could think of to get your attention.’

Despite himself, Yuuri allowed a small smile to creep across his face. ‘Some people try talking to one another.’

‘Do I look like some people?’ Viktor asked, and there was that tone of genuine curiosity again. 

‘No,’ Yuuri admitted, completely honestly. ‘You look like no one I’ve ever met before.’

Viktor took that for the compliment it was. ‘Perhaps we can surprise each other, then?’ He tugged on Yuuri’s arm. ‘Come on! We can start now!’

Yuuri allowed himself to be swept along, until they arrived at a rather ornate looking door. Viktor pulled it open and pulled Yuuri inside, slamming it closed behind him.

Viktor’s room definitely looked lived in. His possessions were scattered around the room; weapons, small statues, a brightly painted vase in one corner, a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. True to his word, Yuuri’s cot was in one corner, the head lined up so that he could lie on his side and be eye-level with Viktor from across the room. 

‘What do you think?’ Viktor asked earnestly, his arms out to encompass the room, waiting for Yuuri’s approval. ‘Do you like it?’

Yuuri smiled. It felt more like the room he had left behind in Hasetsu - almost. His wasn’t quite as grand, smaller perhaps, but it felt comfortable, homely.  The sort of place that wasn’t just for sleeping, but spending waking hours in. He glanced over one of Viktor’s long arms to a window set into one wall, between the beds. Outside, the moon glowed above a glittering ocean. From this vantage point, they had a perfect view of the entire bay. It was beautiful. 

‘I love it,’ Yuuri confirmed and Viktor grinned widely, his upper lip spread amusingly into the shape of a bow. ‘Feels like home.’

Viktor folded himself onto his own bed, Yuuri following almost without thinking. ‘Tell me about it?’ Viktor requested, watching Yuuri with eager eyes.

Yuuri swallowed. ‘Well, I didn’t have anything like you have here. It was more... More minimal, I think. My father-’ Yuuri’s airway threatened to close around the word but he cleared his throat and continued. ‘My father isn’t as rich as yours and he was a bit more... frugal in regards to decoration, but it was nice anyway.’

‘Did you have friends there?’ Viktor asked. 

Yuuri lowered his gaze. ‘One,’ he admitted. ‘Or two, but... They’re gone now.’

‘Takeshi,’ Viktor guessed. Yuuri nodded silently. ‘You were on your own, too,’ Viktor murmured, his face a picture of genuine sympathy. Yuuri wondered if he had realised Yuuri wasn’t particularly inclined to continue that line of questioning just then. ‘I know how that feels. I’m isolated a lot of the time, no one but my tutors for company. It’s terribly lonely.’

Yuuri looked up. ‘Is that why you want me to be your  _ therapon _ ?’ he asked. ‘To keep you company? Someone to talk to?’

‘Yes,’ Viktor admitted. ‘I miss boys my own age. It feels like I only ever talk to old men!’ he sent Yuuri a knowing smile. ‘And they are all  _ dreadfully _ dull.’

Yuuri laughed, imagining Viktor standing before an old philosopher droning on and on, eyes glazed, expression vacant. ‘You almost had me feeling sorry for you for a minute!’ Yuuri giggled.

‘You  _ should _ feel sorry for me!’ Viktor complained. ‘Don’t you know what it’s like to be so unconscionably bored all the time? I start going through combative moves in my head just for something to do!’

‘Ha!’ Yuuri exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. ‘So you’re not exempt from training!’

Viktor chuckled and shook his head, silver hair falling in his eyes. ‘You got me,’ he admitted. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ He whispered the last words like they were discussing a conspiracy, so mockingly serious that it made Yuuri grin. This was a Viktor Yuuri could see himself becoming friends with. The boy bored by his tutors, bristling with mischief, just waiting for a reason to bring out his bright unbridled smile. The vision before him, hair freed of its bindings after a long day, legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees and chin in his hands, was something altogether more accessible than the boy Yuuri had expected. He was a boy Yuuri could touch, someone Yuuri could know and in light of everything, Yuuri felt something around his chest unclench. Viktor was mortal after all, not so different from Yuuri himself and he had chosen Yuuri, of all people, to show this human side to. The idea was so intoxicatingly exciting that Yuuri felt himself relax properly for the first time since he had arrived in Phthia, indeed, the first time since the Incident.

‘You’re not what I expected, Viktor,’ Yuuri admitted after a moment of surprisingly companionable silence.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. ‘And what did you expect? A warrior? A prince? A demigod?’

_So he wasn't oblivious to the rumours then._

Yuuri shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Someone... else. Invulnerable. Aloof.’

‘I can be that if you want me to,’ Viktor replied, unoffended.

‘Don’t,’ said Yuuri, almost too quickly. ‘This is much better. I just want you to be you.’

Viktor moved so he was leaning back on his hands, and Yuuri caught a moment of unguarded surprise in his eyes before it vanished again. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I can be me if you want me to.’

‘I do,’ Yuuri confirmed. 

‘See, this is why I chose you, Yuuri,’ Viktor murmured after a moment. ‘You didn’t want me to be a king. You just wanted a friend.’

‘How did you know?’ Yuuri asked.

‘You always looked so sad at mealtimes, so alone.’

Yuuri hung his head. ‘I was,’ he admitted.

Viktor leaned forward again, hands clasped in his lap. He was close enough Yuuri could see the flickering light of the candle by his bedside dance in his eyes. ‘You don’t have to be sad anymore now, Yuuri. Neither of us do.’

Yuuri smiled.

* * *

That night, like every night before, Yuuri dreamed of the Incident.

It started, as it always did, with Takeshi and him playing dice, running through the fields near Hasetsu palace. He was one of Yuuri’s only friends; much bigger than Yuuri, broader, rougher around the edges. He manhandled Yuuri as they played, able to wrangle Yuuri under his arm in jest, Yuuri always unable to escape the other boys grip. It had always made him feel uncomfortable, but Yuuri had never had many friends and Takeshi was a good friend in other ways. Loyal and well-meaning, if sometimes misguided in the way he demonstrated his friendliness.

On this particular summer day, however, Yuuri was already on edge. He had heard some of his father's friends talking about him and it had left him feeling sick and vulnerable.

_ ‘The boy eats too much,’ the first man had grumbled. ‘He's weak.’ _

_ ‘Poor Toshiya never says,’ his companion replied. ‘B ut he must be disappointed. How can he expect a son like that to make a great king?’ _

_ ‘A king of pigs perhaps!’ the first man had laughed. _

_ Yuuri had hidden behind a pillar as the men had passed him by, unnoticed and unimportant. Once they had turned the corner, he had run down the corridors, outside into the fields at the rear of the palace. _

Takeshi had found him at the base of an olive tree, tears streaming down his cheeks,

‘Yuuri!’ Takeshi’s broad grin was always in place, his hands always reaching, always grasping. Yuuri scrambled upright, stepping carefully away from his friend, furiously wiping tears out of his eyes, smearing them across his cheeks. The conversation he had overheard was still ringing in his ears, making his chest heave with a sense of hopeless inadequacy that threatened to swallow him whole because they were  _ right _ ... He had always known he would never live up to the expectation being a prince placed on him, would never be able to fill his father’s shoes. King Toshiya was a good man, a benevolent ruler and a considerate husband and father. He deserved a son like Viktor, graceful, commanding, a future king of men and gods. Not Yuuri, pathetic, pudgy, a future king of pigs...

It was too much.

For a split second Yuuri had almost forgotten where he was, that Takeshi had found him. The older boy grabbed him, wrapping an arm around his neck in his usual greeting and Yuuri really couldn’t breathe. He gasped and struggled, loathing how weak he was that he couldn’t even restrain the other boy’s innocent exuberance.

‘Get off!’ he shrieked, twisting in Takeshi’s grip, pushing the other boy with all his might. His stomach dropped as Takeshi lost his balance, toppling over backwards, pulling Yuuri with him. They landed at a slightly awkward angle with a thud that seemed to echo oddly in Yuuri’s ears, like the striking of a drum. Takeshi’s grip loosened and Yuuri clambered off him as quickly as he could, an apology already on his lips but as soon as he was standing, he staggered and the ground swayed beneath him.

The grass was dry and brittle, an ugly yellow-brown that always reminded Yuuri of death. Takeshi lay strangely still in the grass, arms and legs skewed at odd angles. His breath shuddered through his chest and when he coughed, a bubble of red liquid spurted through his parted lips. 

‘No...’ Yuuri groaned, his whole body going numb with shock. He had just wanted to escape Takeshi’s embrace, hadn’t wanted to be touched, he hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Takeshi was his  _ friend _ ... ‘No...’ Yuuri repeated, feeling the contents of his stomach forcing their way up his throat as the boy went deathly still, his final breath rattling through his body, something that Yuuri had always taken for granted in Takeshi’s eyes winking out at the sound. 

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He crawled closer to Takeshi’s head, limbs shaking so hard he nearly lost his balance, this time taking in what he hadn’t before; the mound of rock slicked with blood, a grotesque pillow for the boy’s head, a pool of red spreading a dark stain through the grass... 

‘ _ No! _ ’ Yuuri screamed this time, scrambling back as something gripped his shoulders-

‘Yuuri!’

Yuuri’s eyes flew open as he thrashed out of the stranger’s grip, scream still on his lips.

‘Hey!’ the voice called again and this time Yuuri’s eyes focused on a face hovering to his right. In the predawn light, Viktor was white as a ghost, pale face and silver hair floating strangely through the semi-darkness. ‘You were having a nightmare,’ he said, squeezing Yuuri’s shoulders and Yuuri shrugged him off, curling in on himself as he tried desperately to get his breathing under control. The sudden wake-up had left him feeling dizzy and he pressed his bare back into the cold stone wall at the head of his bed. He let his head rest gently against it, the way Takeshi’s head had bounced against the stone as he had landed flashing across his closed eyelids, along with a flash of pain in his chest. 

A tear slipped between his closed eyelids and he hastily wiped it away before Viktor could see it.

‘Sorry,’ Yuuri murmured, letting out an unsteady breath. Wakefulness was returning to him more quickly now, the horror of the dream fading to an uneasiness in his gut. The guilt never left him, but if he was sufficiently distracted it would fade to the point he could ignore it if he tried. ‘I’m betting you don’t want a companion that has nightmares.’

Viktor shook his head, hands twitching where they rested between his knees. He was crouched beside the head of Yuuri’s bed, hair falling in front of his bright eyes. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘Everyone has nightmares.’

Yuuri let out a disbelieving laugh. ‘Do you?’

Viktor’s gaze flitted to the floor. ‘Of course.’

‘What could the Prince of Phthia possibly have nightmares about?’ Yuuri challenged, calling his bluff.

Viktor didn’t seem to be bluffing though. He still hadn’t looked up. ‘We all have secrets, Yuuri. I won’t ask you to tell me what your nightmare was about if you don’t want to talk about it but we will not be talking about mine.’

‘Sorry,’ Yuuri muttered, feeling thoroughly chastised. ‘I...’ he tried again after a moment of uncomfortable silence. ‘Did I wake you up?’

Viktor looked up, customary grin on his face once more. ‘Not really. I needed to get up anyway.’ He stood up, unfolding limbs that looked too long for his body as he straightened.

‘Where are you going?’ Yuuri asked.

‘For a swim,’ Viktor answered, a little too casually, pulling a tunic over his head. 

‘Can I come?’ Yuuri asked, partially because he didn’t believe him.

Viktor shook his head and gathered his silver hair at the base of his neck, tying it back out of the way. ‘Not today,’ he said.

‘Okay,’ Yuuri replied and found himself at a loss.

Before he could think of anything to say, Viktor tugged on the hem of his tunic, straightening it and smiling at Yuuri. ‘Why don’t you get some breakfast and we’ll meet in time for my music lesson?’

Yuuri nodded and watched Viktor leave without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work but things will start moving a lot faster soon!
> 
> Also, you should check out my tumblr: trebelandbass.tumblr.com for victuuri fangirling and the odd classics post. I'm super friendly so feel free to message me about my fics or general YOI fangirling!


	3. A child of the waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you with a keen eye, you will notice that I have played around with ages. Viktor is older than Yuuri by about 11 months. It just made things easier in the long run, trust me on this.

Over the next few months, Viktor and Yuuri developed a routine. Every morning before dawn, Viktor would get up and go for a swim. Every morning, Yuuri would ask him if he wanted company, Viktor would reply, ‘Not today,’ and they would part ways for the morning. Every day they would reunite at Viktor’s music lesson. 

The music tutor, once he had learned of Yuuri’s role in Viktor’s life, began teaching Yuuri how to play the lyre but Yuuri doubted he would ever reach Viktor’s level of skill, able to create melodies that were so heart achingly beautiful that it was impossible to look away from the musician. After the first few weeks, however, Yuuri decided that it was enough to just sit and play along with Viktor, plucking the strings as the older boy sung and danced around the room, sometimes with a lyre or other musical instrument in his hands, sometimes free to move as he pleased, pushing furniture out of the way or even jumping up to dance on top of the table once. 

It was those times, when Viktor seemed full to the brim of playful mischief, bursting with excited energy, acting out with youthful exuberance, that left Yuuri in stitches, laughing out loud at the prince’s antics, or being swept along in the wake of Viktor’s bright smile.

Then, Viktor would disappear to his next lesson and come and find Yuuri hours later, sitting under the olive tree in the courtyard or walking in a secluded end of the beach. They would spend the summer splashing each other and diving beneath the waves, tugging on each other’s ankles. Other times, they would run along the beach, Viktor challenging Yuuri to races and taking off, laughter carried to Yuuri on the wind as he ran to catch up, sand flying up around his feet.

As the sun began to set, they would sit next to each other and just talk about what they dreamed of for their futures, or about the other boys that lived in the palace and gossip they had heard the servants talking about that day. Sometimes Viktor would sing Yuuri a song he had been composing or lapse into long silences as they watched the sun’s rays sink below the horizon. 

As night arrived, they would get up and brush the sand off their legs and tunics, making their way back to the palace and dinner. Viktor would hold court with the other boys, and Yuuri would watch silently from his place at Viktor’s side, wondering how he could have ever expected to become a king once, now he had seen a real king-in-waiting. The thought didn’t sting as much as it had used to. It felt like something closer to acceptance, and then relief. Yuuri had never really wanted to be king, with all the pressure and the politics that came with it, but as Viktor’s  _ therapon _ , he was right where he wanted to be. Viktor would stand and command attention, giving every boy just enough attention in return to keep them invested and happy.

He reminded Yuuri of the Viktor he had first met, eight years ago at the games his father had hosted and Yuuri had stood by as the silver haired boy had stood on the podium as he received his laurels, enthralling and godlike. He had thought then that Viktor had seemed untouchable, on another plane of existence to everyone else. The Viktor he saw at dinner was like that, but now that Yuuri had befriended him, he could see the subtle hints that Viktor’s untouchable mask wasn’t as perfect as Yuuri had first thought. It was a tiredness in his eyes as he laughed at one of the boy’s mediocre jokes, or the subtle relaxation of tension in his shoulders as he stood and bade the rest goodnight. 

These little things were reassuring for Yuuri, a reminder that even the public image Viktor put out as he fulfilled his duties as prince was human, even if Yuuri was the only one who seemed able to see it.

As the year came to a close and winter began to settle in, Yuuri turned fourteen, and a few weeks later, Viktor turned fifteen. The cooler weather caused them to spend more time inside, exploring the halls of the palace and tormenting the serving staff into going along with their wild schemes to pull pranks on the other boys. 

Viktor’s singing and dancing became more sedate during his music lessons, the tempos slowing at first, settling into something more contemplative, but just as beautiful, and then as the season wore on, speeding up again as Viktor’s buildup of energy made him restless, waiting for the warmer weather when they could run through the hills behind the palace or swim in the sea again without freezing.

Then, one day Viktor woke Yuuri up at dawn with excitement in his voice. ‘Come on, Yuuri! Lets go outside!’ 

At first, Yuuri groaned, pulling his covers up over his eyes to block out the light, but Viktor wasn’t having it, dragging Yuuri’s hands down and pulling him out of his bed into the surprisingly warm air of the bedroom. Yuuri almost laughed as Viktor, already dressed, seemed content to let Yuuri run down the halls naked if it meant getting outside faster, but Yuuri tugged his hand out of Viktor’s grip and dressed as quickly as he could. The moment he was presentable, Viktor dragged him down the halls until they came out of the front entrance, running down the slopes to the beach. Viktor whooped, arms raised as he careened toward the water, stripping off again as he approached. 

Yuuri staggered to a stop as he watched Viktor dive in, apparently unperturbed that this early in the springtime the water was still freezing.

‘Come on, Yuuri!’ Viktor called, waves lapping at his waist. ‘It’s not that bad!’

Yuuri was not going anywhere near the sea and he told Viktor so. 

Viktor pouted. ‘Don’t be like that, Yuuri! Please?’

‘Not on your life, Viktor!’ Yuuri called back and laughed as Viktor grumbled something under his breath and dived under the waves. Yuuri contented himself to standing there, enjoying the breeze caressing his face under the lightening sky.

But after a few minutes, Viktor still hadn’t resurfaced.

‘Viktor!’ Yuuri called out as soon as it had been too long. ‘Viktor, where are you?’ When there was still no answer, Yuuri ran towards the beach until the cold sea lapped at his ankles. He searched the waves for any sign of the prince, heart thundering in his chest. ‘Viktor!’ Yuuri called again and again, until  _ finally _ he heard a splash.

‘Viktor!’ Yuuri yelled and ran through the water, sea spray flung high in the air with each step. ‘Are you alright?’ He reached Viktor, who was kneeling in the surf, and gripped his shaking shoulder.  ‘Viktor are you okay?’

Viktor looked up at Yuuri and Yuuri almost hit him. The boy was laughing at him.  _ Laughing. _ ‘Not on my life, yes?’ he giggled, chest heaving with mirth. ‘Your face was priceless! Poor Yuuri though I had drowned!  _ Me _ !’ he guffawed again and fell backwards into the surface with a splash, sitting up again, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at Yuuri. A wave crashed over his head but he barely seemed to notice.

‘I am never going swimming with you again,’ Yuuri insisted, which just made Viktor laugh even harder. 

He grinned wickedly. ‘Swimming requires putting your head underwater,’ he warned and grabbed Yuuri’s hand, pulling him down on top of him before Yuuri could get out of the way.

Yuuri landed on Viktor’s chest and received a faceful of seawater for failing to see that coming. He hadn’t even taken his tunic off.  He spluttered and coughed, pushing himself up and rolling off Viktor, face flushing in indignance. 

‘Not fair!’ Yuuri  complained, getting to his feet, sea water streaming off him in rivulets. ‘That was mean.’

‘Sorry, Yuuri,’ Viktor shrugged, following suit. ‘You just make it too easy.’

‘Come on, Viktor,’ Yuuri grumbled, beginning to shiver. ‘Lets get some breakfast and dry off.’

Viktor laughed and followed Yuuri back up the beach, collecting his tunic from the sand with one oddly wary glance back at the sea.

* * *

Viktor had a secret.

It wasn’t as secret as he would have liked, the rumours had circulated for as long as he could remember, whispers passed between servants, jokes shared between boys as they played, speculation among the men that neither Viktor, nor his father had ever confirmed one way or the other.

The fact of the matter was Viktor was a demigod and nothing good would ever come of it.

The story still made his blood boil. His mother had been a prize for his father’s piety, which meant that Viktor himself had been a prize. His father had since remarried, Viktor had a two year old half-brother called Yura, but Viktor was his father’s eldest son, heir to the throne and if Viktor was sure of anything, it was that the Fates were laughing at him and his father.

Prophecies were never given out lightly. Always to be taken seriously, knowledge of the future was more precious than any jewel, more deadly than any weapon man or god could forge. Especially for Viktor.

His mother was a sea nymph. It was prophecised that her son would be the most powerful of all the archaeons, including his father, the most well-remembered hero of history - but fame was a double-edged sword. 

There was a war coming, his mother said. They met every morning in the safety of the sea. Never on dry land. Never anywhere but the beach Viktor had dragged poor Yuuri to this morning. He had been so excited about the changing of the season, the promise of new life and hours outdoors that he had wanted to share it with Yuuri. As he did every morning, he ran down into the surf, the water greeting him in a loving embrace, the only one he had ever known. It was comforting and familiar, but that morning it had been hesitant and Viktor had remembered then that his mother loathed mortals, and men even more so. He had hoped that the fact Yuuri was Viktor’s friend might have softened his mother towards the other boy, but apparently he had been wrong.

Still, after Yuuri had declined to enter the water, Viktor had dived down to where she was waiting for him.

He couldn’t breathe underwater, but he could hold his breath longer than most. Usually, they ended up with their heads bobbing on the surface, talking for a while before she inevitably vanished into the surf again. But with Yuuri on the beach, she wouldn’t come up. Viktor had taken her hand, always so cold, and tried to pull her towards the surface, but she wouldn’t budge.

‘ _ War is coming _ ,’ she had said, her usual morning greeting. Today, her voice was harsh, pitched low like the promise of a thunderstorm. ‘ _ Have you made your decision yet? _ ’

_ Have you decided yet? _

Always with her, this question was the most urgent.  _ Have you decided? _

Because in the end, the prophecy had given Viktor a choice. He could stand and fight, earn himself a place in the history books, come as close to immortality as he could, or he could abstain and live a long, unremarkable life.

He asked his mother sometimes about what she thought he should do. Preserve this life as long as he could or ensure a glorious life in the next? Her answers always differed, one minute, she would tell him to fight, to earn a mortal’s eternity and join the greats in the constellations when he died, as equal to the gods as any mortal could hope to be. More often than not, she would tell him to run, ignore the call to arms and take to the sea, dive deep enough no one could ever find him.

Every day she would ask him,  _ have you made your decision? _ And every day he would answer.  _ No. Not yet. _

His destiny loomed over his head, a thundercloud in an otherwise sunny sky, but it wouldn’t rain just yet. He had time. He just didn’t know how much.

* * *

Yuuri was waiting for him in the great hall, a half-eaten apple in his hand, when Viktor joined him. Yuuri tossed another one at him and Viktor caught it, almost inhumanly fast, but not quite.

‘Shall we?’ Yuuri knew Viktor’s routine by heart now, knew that after breakfast they had a few hours to themselves before their music lesson, knew that after they had played for a while, Viktor would disappear somewhere else and find him again in the afternoon.

Viktor had never told the younger boy about his combat lessons. He had been forbidden by his mother, who had insisted that no one know of Viktor’s abilities until he made his decision, and up until that day, Viktor had respected that. But the way she had reacted to Yuuri’s presence that morning made Viktor wonder if her judgement wasn’t skewed into the realm of overprotectiveness by a deep irrational fear. 

No, he admitted her mistrust wasn’t totally irrationally placed. She had witnessed the cruelty of mortals firsthand, but Viktor was not his mother. He would not fall prey to man’s greed as she had. He had someone he could trust.

Yuuri would keep his secret if Viktor asked. Yuuri could be trusted.

His decision made, Viktor cut their music lesson short, putting down his lyre and standing much earlier than he usually did. He couldn’t quite explain his eagerness. He wanted Yuuri to see him, wanted him to understand, even if he didn’t think he could tell the boy the full story just yet.

‘Come with me,’ Viktor said softly, already at the door before Yuuri had registered they had finished.

‘Where are we going?’ the boy asked curiously, brushing locks of dark hair out of brown eyes.

‘My next lesson,’ Viktor replied, a tentative smile on his face. He was disobeying both his parents wishes, but it didn’t matter. They were wrong about this and Viktor was going to prove it.

Yuuri went still for a moment and Viktor wondered if he already understood, if he realised what Viktor was doing. ‘Okay,’ was all he said, getting up without hesitation and following Viktor down the corridors of the palace. 

Viktor lead him out to the courtyard, empty since the other boys were out doing their morning drills, and through an archway in the stone enclosure wall, out into the woods that surrounded this side of the palace. He lead Yuuri carefully down a well-worn track, weaving through the trunks of ancient trees, early spring sunlight filtering through new leaves just beginning to unfurl as they sensed summer’s approach.

Finally, they came to a stop at the mouth of a clearing. The grass was a dewy green carpet. Viktor kept it from getting too long out of necessity and it swayed close to the ground in the wind that breezed down the mountain. Viktor looked to Yuuri, the boy’s eyes wide as he took it all in; from the stash of weapons hidden in one large hollowed out trunk to the deep scars that marked the rest of the trees, great slashes in the bark that confessed the clearing's true purpose.

‘This is where you train,’ Yuuri said because it was obvious. He met Viktor’s gaze. ‘Does anyone else know this is here?’

Viktor shook his head. ‘Just us,’

Yuuri blushed and ducked his head for a moment. When he looked up again, his eyes were nothing but pleasantly surprised. ‘Show me?’ he asked and Viktor smiled.

‘Of course.’

* * *

Yuuri watched Viktor enter the clearing and tried to keep his astonishment in check. Of all the things he had learned about Viktor over the past year, this particular side of him had remained elusive. He had caught glimpses of it, flashes of the warrior Viktor could become if he let himself, in the strength he could command when they wrestled, or in the lightness of his footsteps, but he had never actually seen Viktor with a weapon in his hand. 

The idea was thrilling.

The slashes in the bark of the trees that surrounded the clearing spoke of a hidden danger, not from the forest, but Viktor himself. Viktor had  _ made  _ those marks. Yuuri could see thin slashes where the trees had been marked with a blade, and wider scars where the trunks had been attacked with what looked like a staff. There were even short gashes where they had been impaled by a pointed sword or, more likely, arrowheads.

So much power evident in just those markings, Yuuri was still distracted when Viktor moved from one hollowed out tree to the center of the clearing, a staff in hand.

He whirled the weapon above his head experimentally, warming up his wrists, bringing it down suddenly so one end stuck in the dirt, the rest of the wooden implement following the straight lines of his toned arm, extending across his shoulders and behind his silver head. Then, he was moving again, passing the staff from one hand to the other as it twirled, stepping towards an invisible enemy with the same grace he usually possessed, but this time it was honed into a deadly point by purpose. Turning from one side to the other, Yuuri could almost imagine the unseen foes Viktor was facing just in the way he moved his body, he struck out at one, slashed sideways at another, kicked out at another, spun to face one, then turned in a half circle to take out another. 

After a while, Yuuri lost count and just watched the boy himself, the way he could see Viktor’s back muscles move underneath the thin fabric of his tunic, the way his arms tensed and flexed with each flick of the staff, the way his feet moved in perfect time, always precise in where he put them down next. It was beautiful and Yuuri found something in him that wanted to copy it, wanted to achieve the kind of grace that he had never before considered.

After a few minutes, Viktor seemed to switch to single combat, blocking and parrying imaginary blows, strutting forward until his staff came into contact with one of the trees, the sharp crack of his weapon attacking the bark drowning out the birdsong that had previously filled the air. Still, Viktor maintained his single-minded precision, moving fluidly and unobstructed by the tree now in his way.

With a final thrust, Viktor’s motions stilled and he kept his back to Yuuri for a moment, tense, waiting.

‘How did you learn all that?’ Yuuri asked, filling the silence. Viktor wasn’t even panting. ‘Those aren’t the drills we were taught by Celestino.’

‘I... Don’t know,’ Viktor finally admitted. He turned to face Yuuri and Yuuri took note of the way his cheeks were slightly flushed and a few strands of his long hair had escaped their tethers. ‘My father trained me in the basics, but I’ve always just trained on my own. Making it up as I go along, really.’

‘Incredible,’ Yuuri murmured. Louder, he said, ‘Fight me.’

The light in Viktor’s eyes shuttered. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’ Yuuri challenged.

‘Just... No.’

‘Are you afraid you’ll hurt me?’ Yuuri asked, taking a step towards Viktor.

A pause. Then, ‘... Yes.’

Yuuri took another step forward, reaching out a hand to remove Viktor’s staff from his grip. ‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you would hurt anyone if you didn’t want to.’

Viktor frowned. Yuuri could practically watch the various thoughts flicker across his face as he made a decision. Finally, he sighed and brightened, fetching a matching weapon from his stash and returning to Yuuri. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

Yuuri only hesitated for a second. He strode forward, staff pointed at Viktor’s chest, but the older boy just swiped it out of the way with enough force to bury the tip in the dirt.

Shoulder to shoulder, Viktor smirked. ‘You have to do better than that, Yuuri.’

Yuuri did, dragging up half-remembered drills from his memory as he tried again, wrenching his staff free and taking a swipe at Viktor’s side. The other boy parried it easily, and Yuuri staggered back a step before launching himself at Viktor with renewed vigour. He tried the other side and was blocked, stabbed forward at the soft flesh under Viktor’s ribs and was batted away. He feinted right and swung left. For a moment, Viktor let him think the move had worked, before parrying at the last second.

‘Easy,’ he taunted and Yuuri glowered at him, determined to at least get in one hit.

Gripping the staff in two hands he engaged Viktor’s weapon with one end, then spun quickly, aiming the other end at Viktor’s ribs. The boy only just managed to free himself in time to step back out of the way and Yuuri used the momentum to face the other boy again, increasing the frequency of his attacks, stabbing and slashing blindly, trying to hit something,  _ anything. _

He swiped his staff forward again and Viktor caught it, stopping the blow short and keeping it there. ‘You can’t hit me,’ he said, matter-of-fact tone belied by the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He looked down at Yuuri from his superior height, taunting him, daring Yuuri to struggle, to try and hit him again.

Without breaking the eye contact, Yuuri moved, tugging the end of the staff closest to the ground behind Viktor’s ankles and pulled, tripping him. Viktor fell and for a moment Yuuri’s heart stopped, flashes of another face falling to the ground in front of him overwhelming him for a split second but when he blinked, Viktor was grinning up at him from his feet, Yuuri’s staff pointed at his throat.

‘I’m  _ not _ weak,’ Yuuri insisted, more to himself than Viktor.

‘No,’ Viktor agreed from his position on the grass. ‘You’re not.’ Then, Yuuri was falling too as Viktor reached up and yanked on his staff, overbalancing him.

Yuuri let out a surprised  _ oof! _ As he landed on Viktor’s chest, causing Viktor to laugh like a maniac. He gripped Yuuri tight around the shoulders, immobilising him and Yuuri’s breathing hitched in fear. 

‘I win,’ Viktor announced and Yuuri conceded, unable to move.

He hated being unable to move. ‘Viktor,’ Yuuri said, keeping his voice deliberately calm. ‘Please let go of me.’

Viktor obeyed and Yuuri scrambled up, helping Viktor to his feet, too. ‘Are you alright, Yuuri?’ Viktor asked, concern colouring his tone.

Yuuri shrugged, flashing him a genuine smile. ‘I’m fine.’

Viktor smiled back. ‘Good,’ he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the staff an ancient Greek weapon? No, not really but this is fanfic so does it matter? I don't think so. Did I trust these two to fight with actual swords? No. Not right now, anyway. Maybe later. I don't know. 
> 
> Also - Viktor's POV! Yay! I love him so it was bound to happen eventually. Let me know what you thought about the developments in the comments or message me/send me an ask on tumblr! You'll find me at trebelandbass.tumblr.com (I will figure out how to add hyperlinks to notes on this site one day I'm sure but for now please excuse the awkwardness!)


	4. Soldiers in tow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who left kudos or comments so far! You all make my day! :)

When they arrived back at the palace that afternoon, the king was waiting for them.

‘Viktor,’ he called across the courtyard. His dark eyes were focused solely on Viktor, his expression made Yuuri’s stomach churn. Viktor stopped when his name was called, turning to his father with a less than genuine smile on his face.

‘Father!’ he greeted. ‘I didn’t expect to see you until this evening.’

‘Come with me,’ the king growled and the two boys shared a look before stepping forward to follow him. ‘Not you,’ the king snapped, looking at Yuuri for the first time. ‘This is between my son and myself. No one else.’ His last words seemed to be directed more to Viktor than Yuuri: a warning.

Viktor opened his mouth to protest but at a glowering look silenced the boy before he could. Instead, he said, ‘Wait for me, Yuuri,’ and turned away, leaving Yuuri alone and wondering what on earth had just happened.

Viktor hadn’t looked too concerned when he had left, but his father’s demeanour made Yuuri distinctly nervous. Still, following them would just make things worse, whatever that entailed, so Yuuri did as Viktor had instructed, walking the halls of the palace alone until he reached the bedroom that he and Viktor shared.

Afternoon sunlight flooded the room, gilding everything it touched in gold. Viktor’s bed was unmade, sheets kicked down to the edge. Yuuri’s was in a similar state and Yuuri whiled away the time he spent waiting for Viktor’s return pulling the covers up and fixing them. Viktor had a few toys strewn about, small animal skin sacks filled with sand for juggling, a wooden horse toy neither boy had touched in months, a wooden sword left forgotten in a corner, it’s owner long since moved on to the real thing. Yuuri put everything in their proper place until the room was tidier than he had ever seen it. 

Still, Viktor had not returned. Yuuri sat down on his own bed, looking around for something to do, some kind of distraction.

In the end, Yuuri settled himself by the window, watching the sea sparkle in the light of the sun slowly lowering in the sky. The water was a little rougher than usual, the waves capped with white seafoam as they crashed onto the sand of the shore. It was early enough that some of the boys were still running along the beach. Yuuri’s eyes skated over them, idly disinterested, instead focusing on a formation of seagulls flying through the air, silhouetted against the backdrop of blue.

The tranquility of the scene had lulled Yuuri into a state of mind where he had almost forgotten what he was waiting for until it arrived with a  _ bang! _

Viktor kicked the door open and stormed through, startling Yuuri so profoundly, he fell onto the floor in surprise, jumping at the noise.

‘Viktor! What happened?’ Yuuri demanded, but his voice died in his throat at the sight of Viktor’s face.

Viktor’s cheeks were flushed, eyes ablaze, shoulders hunched, breathing heavily. Yuuri had never seen Viktor so angry. The door slammed shut and Yuuri flinched, picking himself up off the floor, taking a tentative step towards his friend.

‘Viktor?’ he asked softly, afraid that speaking too loud would set him off again. ‘Viktor, what happened?’

It seemed to do the trick. Some of the tension left his shoulders as Yuuri spoke. Viktor moved past Yuuri to sit on his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. Yuuri waited patiently, fidgeting on the spot. 

Finally, Viktor said, ‘They’re sending me away.’

‘Who? Your father?’

Viktor nodded. ‘There is a man in the mountains who trains heroes. They call him Yakov. My father is sending me to him... Indefinitely.’

‘When?’ Yuuri asked.

‘Tomorrow morning.’

‘It sounds like an honour,’ Yuuri tried, but he didn’t think that was all that had Viktor so worked up.

‘Yuuri, you don’t understand. They’re sending  _ me. _ Me. Not  _ us _ .’

_ Oh. _

‘But...’ Yuuri swallowed. ‘But they can’t do that. You chose me. I made an oath. Where you go, I go. I don’t-’

‘They want me to release you,’ Viktor murmured and Yuuri’s heart stuttered. 

Tears stung his eyes but he refused to cry. He was thirteen, not a  _ child _ anymore. ‘Will you?’ he asked, after a moment of tense silence. Part of him hoped it was quiet enough that Viktor wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t answer him because if he did...

If he did, Yuuri might never see him again.

‘Do you want me to?’ Viktor asked suddenly.

‘What?’

‘Do you want me to release you?’ Viktor clarified, looking up at Yuuri from his hunched position.

‘Why would you think that?’ Yuuri asked, so thrown by the question he didn’t even think about answering.

‘I just...’ Viktor sighed. ‘I just realised that I kind of forced you into this. I gave you the position before asking if you actually wanted it. It was selfish of me because that’s what I am and you had never seemed the slightest bit interested in it or me before I made you my companion and I never  _ asked _ -’

‘No,’ Yuuri interrupted and Viktor stared at him. Yuuri wondered if he’d ever been interrupted before. ‘You’re right,’ Yuuri continued, wondering where this boldness had been hiding before that moment. ‘I never asked for this, but Viktor, you’re my best friend. My only friend, really, and I want you to continue being my best friend forever. Please...’ For the first decade and more of Yuuri’s life, he had been a prince and princes did not beg. Yuuri hated begging for anything, had never begged for anything in his life, but the one thing he hated more than begging was the thought of losing Viktor so he refused to feel ashamed as he finished. ‘Don’t release me from my oath.’

Viktor swallowed, blue eyes widening as he processed Yuuri’s words. He smirked, a tiny quirk of his lips for just a moment. ‘That sounded like a marriage proposal.’ 

Yuuri gave a very undignified snort at the idea. ‘Ha! I’d rather be your companion than your Queen.’

Viktor mocked offense, placing a hand over his heart. ‘Yuuri, you wound me! Why wouldn’t you want to be married to me?’

‘Because,’ Yuuri replied since it was obvious. ‘The wife runs the household, right? But she doesn’t actually see her husband that much. She just spends her time weaving with the other women. I wanna be where the action is.’

Viktor’s grin spread across his face. ‘You mean you’d rather hang out with me than a whole bunch of beautiful girls?’

Yuuri punched his arm. ‘You’re gross,’ he laughed, but didn’t deny it.

* * *

Both boys were quiet at dinner. At first, the others sent them strange looks, whispering among themselves at the reason behind Viktor’s uncharacteristic lack of charisma. After a while though, they lost interest and the volume of the gathering increased back to it's usual level. As soon as their plates were cleared, Viktor and Yuuri excused themselves, returning to their room to plan.

The problem was that Yuuri still wasn’t allowed to follow Viktor to Mount Pelion where he was to be trained. As it had been established that neither boy was intending to go along with this, the topic had then turned to how to distract the guards so Yuuri could accompany Viktor undetected, what to do to ensure that by the time the king realised Viktor and Yuuri had disobeyed a royal command, it would be too late.

By the time they had come up with a plan, the moon was rapidly making its descent back through the sky to make way for morning and Viktor had insisted they catch a few hours sleep before they had to wake up early for their journey the next morning. 

Yuuri blinked bleary eyes open as Viktor shook him awake a few hours later, already dressed with a bag packed and slung over his shoulder. Yuuri groaned and rolled over, wishing for nothing more than to go back to sleep before Viktor reminded him why they were so tired.

‘Come on, Yuuri,’ he murmured. ‘You need to be away in ten minutes.’

Yuuri yelped and leaped out of bed. ‘Why didn’t you wake me earlier?’ he hissed.

‘And risk a fist in the face?’ Viktor joked. ‘Not even I am that brave.’

Yuuri just glowered at him and slipped his tunic over his head.

Yuuri left first. They had woken early enough that not even the majority of the servants were awake yet. Yuuri slipped down the halls as silently as possible, creeping out into the courtyard and through the archway. It was easier this way, he and Viktor had decided. Yuuri would hide in the woods until it was time for Viktor to leave and then walk down to the road he had taken to arrive at the palace a year ago, where Viktor would pick him up and they would head into the mountains together.

With at least half an hour on his hands, Yuuri walked to Viktor’s clearing.

The early morning air was sharp on his skin, sending a chill through his bones, but Yuuri found that if he kept moving he didn’t notice. It didn’t take him long to reach the clearing. As before, the scarred trees were full of birdsong, the woods eliciting no other sound except for the crunch of Yuuri’s feet in the undergrowth. 

To pass the time and keep warm, Yuuri fetched one of the staffs he and Viktor had fought with the day before from the hollow tree and held it in his hands. The wood was worn smooth, perfectly straight and carved with care. It felt good in Yuuri’s hands, tactile and round enough his young fingers had to work to keep it gripped securely. Viktor was just under a year older than him, Yuuri remembered. Soon, his hands would grow like Viktors, soon he would catch up to the other boy, look him in the eye, fill out and become broader like Viktor was becoming already. He imagined what he would look like then, if he would ever look like Viktor did when he held the staff or a sword; powerful, dangerous. 

Experimentally, Yuuri swung the staff across his field of vision, moving the weapon slowly through the air. He repeated the motion, faster this time, again and again, faster and faster until the tip began to blur a little with the speed. He took a tentative step forward as he did so, practicing the skill of moving his arms and legs at the same time. He remembered Viktor’s footwork, always so careful, so precise, and focused on that, hyper aware of where his feet were in relation to his body. He was nowhere near Viktor’s level. He probably never would be, but no one was like Viktor, not really, and Yuuri had long since accepted that he was no exception.

Yuuri whiled away the time like that, bringing Viktor’s movements from the day before to mind and copying what he could. He remembered the invisible foes Viktor had taken down and tried to picture them once more in his mind, swinging at one phantom after another until the sun began to rise in earnest.

The dawn light made everything flat and two-dimensional, skewing Yuuri’s vision just enough to be vaguely annoying. His descent down the mountain to the road wasn’t as smooth as he had hoped, but since he was alone, he tried not to be too embarrassed. He stumbled over tree roots and ducked low hanging branches to varying degrees of success. By the time he had reached the road, he was covered in small scratches and bruises but it didn’t matter because he was so close to where Viktor was going to meet him and the sun was high enough now that he could come around the corner at any moment.

Yuuri kept walking away from the palace, towards the mountains. There was a copse of trees ahead at a curve in the road and Yuuri aimed for it, walking along the road, hoping Viktor hadn’t been and gone when he was a little slower than they had planned.

He was only a few paces away when the pounding of hooves reached his ears from the direction of the palace. Without thinking, Yuuri closed the distance between him and the trees, diving for cover as voices reached him from his hasty hiding place.

‘Oh look! What’s over there?’

It was Viktor’s voice and Yuuri almost laughed at his own paranoia, but- ‘Please, Your highness. The king instructed us to accompany you to the border. We have a schedule to keep.’

That was a problem. Viktor was supposed to go alone. Time to improvise.

‘And I agreed to my father’s wishes but we’ve already been riding for  _ so long _ I would like a rest now,’ Viktor was saying.  

Yuuri snickered as he heard a long-suffering sigh come from one of Viktor’s guards. ‘With all due respect, your highness, we have been riding for five minutes.’ 

‘Here looks good!’ Viktor called loudly, so close to Yuuri’s hiding place that Yuuri could hear the boy’s breathing. Viktor dismounted and the guards seemed to resign themselves to their fates, grumbling to each other quietly. Two more pairs of feet hit the earth and then Viktor poked his head through the trees. ‘It’s nice and shady in here!’ Viktor announced with a wink in Yuuri’s direction. 

As the guards approached, Yuuri slipped through the trees to the roadside and saw the horses tethered to nearby branches. Silently, he freed Viktor’s horse Makkachin and mounted the brown beast, settling in the saddle, Viktor still talking animatedly to his guards about absolutely nothing. Yuuri gave a soft whistle and Viktor’s voice brightened immediately. 

‘Well that was a nice rest! I feel so refreshed! Bye!’ He burst through the trees at Yuuri’s feet and grinned up at Yuuri, using a nearby tree to launch himself into the saddle, settling his body behind Yuuri’s. ‘Lets go, Makka!’ Viktor whooped, looping his arms around Yuuri to take the reins from him. Yuuri let him, gripping the pommel of the saddle in one hand and the horse’s thick brown mane in the other to steady himself as Viktor kicked Makkachin into a canter.

By the time the guards had emerged from the trees, calling after Viktor as they fumbled to untie their own horses to chase after them, Makkachin was galloping along the road. Yuuri laughed as the wind blew through his hair, relishing the feeling of Viktor’s body supporting him from behind and the steady rock of the horse beneath them. They were surely going to get into so much trouble but at that moment he didn’t care at all. Not when Viktor was whooping in Yuuri’s ear, his laughter mixing with Yuuri’s in perfect harmony.

The guards couldn’t follow them past the border, Viktor assured Yuuri as their pursuers finally started catching up. 

Yuuri patted Makkachin’s neck. ‘We just have to cross the border, then we can slow down,’ he assured the horse, who was already blowing hard. ‘Not much further, boy.’

The border was nothing special, just a small stone forced upright into the earth, marking where the city state of Phthia ended and Thessaly began. As they raced past it, Viktor pulled Makkachin to a stop, turning so they could see the guards as they realised where they were.

Viktor gave them a salute as he laughed at them, stopped at the invisible line between states. ‘Thank you for your service!’ Viktor called and turned Makkachin around again, continuing their journey to Mt Pelion and the mysterious tutor they would find there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prince Viktor is so Extra I love him
> 
> Scream at me about my sons Viktor and Yuuri on tumblr: trebelandbass.tumblr.com
> 
> Yes, Makkachin is a horse in this AU but if Alexander the Great can get attached enough to his horse to name an entire city after him, then I don't see why Viktor should have any problem connecting with his horse either. 
> 
> Besides, I don't think they had poodles in Ancient Greece.


	5. Over mountain strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its a couple of days late but I had a pretty major health scare at the beginning of the week and spent most of my time sleeping it off leaving very little energy or brain function to write anything. This was all prewritten though and I'm feeling a lot better now so have the next chapter anyway.

It occurred to Viktor only as the mountain he was aiming for loomed into view, that he didn’t actually know where he was supposed to go. Mount Pelion wasn’t small, after all, which meant a lot of ground to cover before dark prevented them from continuing for the night.

‘Do you think that this... teacher is expecting us?’ Yuuri asked when Viktor finally admitted the potential problem to his companion.

Viktor thought for a moment. ‘I assume so,’ he replied. ‘Why?’

Yuuri cocked his head to the side, the movement the only part of the boy’s expression Viktor could see. ‘It’s just... he’s trained heroes before. If he was expecting us, he must be anticipating this problem. Perhaps  _ he _ will come and find  _ us _ .’

Below them, Makkachin gave a low huff. Viktor glanced up at the sky where the sun was well and truly at it's zenith. ‘In that case,’ he decided. ‘I think it's time for lunch, don’t you?’ Yuuri’s stomach grumbled and his tanned ears flushed a much darker colour. Viktor chuckled and coaxed Makkachin to a stop at a pleasant spot on the side of the road.

‘Is this a good idea?’ Yuuri asked as Viktor helped him down from the horse that was still a little too big for him.

‘What do you mean?’ Viktor asked, rummaging through the saddlebags on Makka’s left side.

‘Well... Aren’t there supposed to be, you know, criminals and wild animals around here?’

Viktor laughed and produced a few lumps of bread from the bag he was rummaging through. ‘You’re worried about getting robbed?’ He tossed one of the lumps at the nodding boy. Yuuri caught the bread and took a bite out of it. He sat down on the grass, spreading his legs out to catch the noonday sun. Viktor joined him, supporting himself with one hand braced behind him.

‘Aren’t you?’

Viktor tossed his head back, the gesture flicking a few annoying strands of hair out of his eyes. ‘Let them come,’ he announced, his tone bordering on overconfidence. But Viktor didn’t get overconfident. If he thought he could do something then he could. Simple as that. ‘We can take them.’

A big brown blur burst through the trees, launching itself at Viktor who had no time to react. Yuuri yelped and scrambled out of the way, but Viktor was busy trying to wrestle the thing off him. It had come at him at an angle, sending him flying sideways. Viktor tried to push the weight of the thing off him, but though he was very strong, his real gifts lay in agility, not strength. The thing’s hands went for Viktor’s throat and he batted them away, grabbing the man by the wrists and wrenching them away from his face, causing him to topple forwards. Utilising the moment, Viktor kneed the man in the stomach and flipped them over so his weight was bearing down on the intruder.

‘Impressive,’ the man rasped. He had a squarish face and sallow skin, his stringy hair may have been dark once, but the colour had faded to a steely grey. His eyes were narrow; dark and calculating. ‘But you have much to learn.’

With a swiftness and ease that Viktor had not expected, the man removed himself from Viktor’s grip, swiping Viktor’s hands to his sides and flipping them over so he was once again on top, Viktor’s hands now pinned to his sides by the man’s knees, the stranger’s weight distributed so his legs were practically immobilised, one arm across Viktor’s throat with just enough pressure to dissuade Viktor from trying to move.

‘Yakov,’ said Yuuri. Viktor had momentarily forgotten him in the fracas.

‘Very good Toshiyatedes,’ the man said, not looking away from Viktor for a moment. Yakov straightened and stood, allowing Viktor to sit up, rubbing his throat lightly.

Yuuri’s face flushed slightly at the name.  _ Son of Toshiya _ . ‘Not anymore,’ he corrected. ‘I am just Yuuri now. No one, really.’

‘And you?’ Yakov asked, glaring down at Viktor. ‘What do you prefer to be called?’

‘Viktor,’ Viktor confirmed, standing and bowing his head in respect. ‘I prefer not to be defined by my father.’

Yakov watched him with beady eyes. ‘You do not enjoy the reminder?’ it was phrased as a question, but it sounded to Viktor like a statement, too close to the truth to be coincidence, his mother’s words ringing in his ears.  _ You will become more powerful than your father, Viktor, the Fates have seen it. It makes you dangerous. _

‘You are very observant,’ Viktor replied, instead of a downright  _ no _ .

‘I make it my business to know my students’ strengths,’ Yakov admitted, but it sounded more like a warning. ‘... And their weaknesses.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Yuuri said, watching Yakov carefully, never looking him in the eye. ‘I thought you would be...’

‘Immortal?’ Yakov finished. ‘Younger?’ 

Yuuri looked down at his feet. ‘Something like that.’

‘I can be,’ Yakov replied blithely. ‘If I choose to, which I don’t.’

Viktor frowned. ‘Why?’

Viktor already had the distinct impression Yakov didn’t smile, but he looked close just then, eyes crinkling just at the edges. It wasn’t exactly kind. ‘Would you have underestimated me if I had not looked as I do? Old and frail?’ At Viktor’s stunned expression he lowered his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t think so. My first lesson to you both: appearances can be deceiving.’

‘Both?’ Yuuri asked, looking up suddenly, big brown eyes wide.

‘Do you not wish to be a hero as well?’

‘I...’ Yuuri gaped at them both, like he had never considered the option before. ‘I’m not exactly hero material-’

‘But he could be,’ Viktor interrupted what was sure to turn into a self-deprecating ramble. He met Yuuri’s eyes, trying to convey his belief in the boy with his gaze and his words. ‘He will be training with me.’ Viktor remembered their conversation the afternoon before. ‘If that is what he wants.’ He hadn’t given Yuuri the option of not becoming his companion, but he would give his friend the option of whether or not he wanted to train with Viktor now.

Yakov eyed Yuuri up and down, assessing him. ‘Is that what you want?’

Yuuri gulped. ‘Yes. It is.’

Yakov nodded and Viktor smiled. ‘Then let’s not waste any more time. We have lots of ground to cover before nightfall.’

* * *

The sun was just sinking beneath the treetops when Yakov announced they were nearing their destination. The path, now just a faint dirt track weaving between the trunks of ancient trees, looked no different than it had hours before and the trees certainly didn’t seem any thinner than usual. There was nothing to denote the approach of a flat expanse of ground required to make a camp, or wherever they would be staying while they completed their training. Just the ever present incline and the close press of the trees.

Then, suddenly, the trees fell away and the mountain loomed overhead as Yakov came to a stop, allowing Viktor and Yuuri to admire the view for a moment.

'Amazing,' Viktor whispered and Yuuri couldn't help but agree.

It wasn't a camp that Yakov lead them to, but a cave. It's enormous mouth opened into an interior bigger than any temple Yuuri had ever seen, and more beautiful. The entire surface of the cave, every facet of the walls and ceiling was crusted with naturally occurring diamonds. The sun sparkled off every surface glittering like the deepest frost of winter had been immortalized in crystal form. Nooks of various sizes had been carefully carved out of the walls and were used to store all kinds of things; fruits and berries, strange tools, weapons and animal skins were the first things Yuuri noticed. There was a fire pit in the center of the room and a single bed in one corner.

Of course. Yakov had only been expecting one student. Yuuri swallowed down his embarrassment. Viktor wanted him here, he had said so himself and Yuuri believed him. Yakov hadn't seemed bothered by Yuuri's presence either, but the immortal was far more difficult to read than the Prince of Phthia.

'It will get dark soon,' Yakov announced. 'First lesson: don't get lost looking for firewood.'

Viktor sighed quietly. Knowing him, Yuuri guessed that looking for firewood on the side of a mountain after a very long day was not his idea of fun but after letting Makkachin loose to graze by the entrance to the cave, Viktor started down the slopes anyway. 

The task was surprisingly pleasant. Viktor, probably to stave off his own boredom, made it into a competition of which boy could hold more firewood at once. He won, of course, his arms being longer and stronger than Yuuri’s, but his attempts to balance sticks on his head in order to increase his score left both of them in stitches, growing piles of wood dropping to the forest floor as they laughed. Eventually, both of their arms were full and they headed back up the mountain. 

Despite Yakov’s warnings, the boys did get lost once, taking a wrong turn and ending up much further west than they had originally intended, but with the sun sinking low in the sky, they returned to the cave, where Yakov was seated on a large log beside the fire pit, hunched over as if the weight of his robes were too much for his ancient shoulders to bear. He was impaling chunks of meat on a sharp stick as they approached but stopped what he was doing long enough to take in the fruits of Viktor and Yuuri’s labours with a critical eye.

‘It will do,’ he announced finally with a grunt and nodded at the pit. ‘Build the fire.’

After a few fumbled attempts, Yakov intervened, teaching them with surprising patience the best way to arrange the wood so it would burn efficiently and once that was done, how to set it alight without tools. Once they had the fire roaring, he instructed them on the proper way to create and use a spit, coaching them through the cooking process and demonstrating how they could tell if the meat was cooked enough it was safe to eat.

All throughout this process, Yuuri listened with rapt attention, attempting to commit everything Yakov was telling them to his memory. Viktor, however, had decided that he had done enough for the day and yawned through Yakov’s instructions, sometimes nudging Yuuri’s shoulder where they sat side-by-side, reminding Yuuri of an inside joke or a fond memory brought to mind by something Yakov had just said with little more than a sidelong glance or a quirk of the lips. A tired Viktor, Yuuri had long since discovered, was no use to anyone and so he just did his best to ignore the older boy and focus on the lesson being offered to him.

Yakov, however, was not nearly so patient with Viktor. ‘After you finish eating, I suggest you go to sleep,’ he grumbled. ‘Since you seem unable to concentrate. We start at dawn tomorrow.’ Then, the old man stood and walked out of the cave, disappearing into the night that had settled firmly on the shoulders of the mountain.

Viktor giggled. ‘I think I just got told off,’ he said, unable to keep a straight face.

‘I think you did,’ Yuuri agreed and then Viktor was clutching his sides, bent over as he laughed, loud and joyful. Yuuri, never able to hold out when Viktor laughed like he was doing then, the genuine, unbridled belly laugh that seemed to rip uncontrollably through his body, joined him, laughing at the very idea that someone had  _ dared _ to tell off Viktor, crown prince of Phthia. Viktor who had never, as far as Yuuri knew, been told off in his life. Still, Yuuri reasoned, Yakov wasn’t a mere mortal and should be respected, with all the due piety that required. The thought sobered him far quicker than it did Viktor, but once he voiced it out loud, the older boy was able to control his laughter and even have the presence of mind to look a little sheepish. 

That in itself was enough to nearly set Yuuri off again, but he refrained from doing so. If he was being honest, though humility was a strangely unnatural look on Viktor, it suited him. Anything that made Viktor look more human than normal suited him, in Yuuri’s opinion. This Viktor that defied orders and laughed at gods was a fun Viktor to be around, but it was a side of his friend that Yuuri sometimes struggled to relate to. There was a confidence to him that Yuuri didn’t think he would ever be able to claim as his own, but humble Viktor... That was a different story.

‘You’re happy,’ Yuuri observed. 

‘I am,’ Viktor agreed.

‘Why?’ Yuuri asked, the one thing that had been niggling the back of his mind all day finally coming to the surface. ‘This time yesterday you were mad about the fact that your father was sending you here.’

Viktor thought for a moment. ‘I didn’t mind the thought of coming here,’ he admitted. ‘I just wanted to do it on my terms.’

‘Bringing me?’ Yuuri guessed, some of the joy he had felt moments before leaking out of him.

‘Yes.’

‘So... I’m here as a way of defying your father?’ Yuuri asked, his smile gone, looking at Viktor seriously, shifting on the log so he was facing him, one leg on either side of the great trunk like he was riding a horse.

‘What?’ Viktor asked, like the thought had never occurred to him. ‘No. I mean, yes, that was one reason, but I want you here. I didn’t want to spend the next however long with no one but an old tutor for company. You know how much I hate them.’

‘So... I’m entertainment?’ Yuuri asked, deadpan.

‘Well, yeah,’ Viktor agreed but then sighed. ‘Yuuri, you are my best friend. You’re who I talk to when I’m bored or upset-’ Yuuri snorted. ‘And the one I rely on to always be by my side. I don’t... Yes, you’re entertainment and you being here is a way of defying my father, but you are my companion and my best friend first and foremost. The other things are just an added bonus.’

Yuuri frowned and looked down at his hands for a moment before looking up again and saying, ‘Alright then.’

He yawned and Viktor smiled, something like relief in his blue eyes. Another human emotion, Yuuri noted with a matching smile. ‘Good,’ Viktor said. ‘Now let's go to sleep. I’m exhausted.’

Yuuri laughed but stopped abruptly when he looked over at the bed,  _ singular _ , and immediately realised that meant he would be sleeping on the hard stone floor until they made him another cot for him to sleep in. ‘Uh... I’ll sleep on the floor,’ he said, since it was in his role to offer. Princes never slept on the floor and in that moment, Yuuri was reminded once again of the fact that he was no longer a prince.

Viktor, who had stood up from the log and made his way over to where a basin had been carved out of the stone, full of clear water, looked over his shoulder at Yuuri as if only just realising the problem. ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘You can’t sleep on the floor for the foreseeable future. I won’t allow it. You can sleep with me. It’ll be like a sleepover.’

Yuuri blushed a little but nodded. ‘If that is what you want.’

Viktor grinned, tiredness smoothing it around the edges, making the bow of his lips more pronounced. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ he asked. 

Yuuri didn’t have an answer so he rose and joined Viktor at the basin, washing the grease from dinner and the grime of the day from his face and hands and pulling his tunic over his head. Viktor lay down on the bed and moved over so Yuuri could join him, back facing the diamond-crusted wall. Yuuri did so, settling on his side, facing the interior of the cave.

‘Goodnight Yuuri,’ Viktor mumbled and was asleep within moments.

‘Goodnight Viktor,’ Yuuri replied. Unable to sleep, he rolled onto his back and admired the ceiling of the cave. Constellations had been carved into the crystalline surface and the seemed to glow from the moonlight that streamed in through the cave mouth. It was almost like sleeping under the real stars and for a moment it took Yuuri’s breath away.

In his sleep, Viktor’s arm fell across Yuuri’s stomach and he snored slightly. He was missing the view, Yuuri thought, making a note to point it out tomorrow night. Part of him still couldn’t believe he was here. With Viktor, yes, that had been a given for a while now, and Viktor being trained by Yakov, the tutor of the greatest Archaean heroes of all time was not a stretch either. Divine blood or not, Viktor was destined for greatness. Of course he would end up here, but Yuuri... Never in a millennia would Yuuri have dreamed of this fate for himself. He may have only been here because Viktor wanted him to be, but still... something about being here, Viktor’s warm presence beside him, the stars above him and Yakov wherever it was the gods went when the mortals slept... something about this felt to Yuuri like a second chance. For the first time, Yuuri began to truly feel like he might become more than Toshiyatedes, the son who had embarrassed his father and killed a boy by accident.

Lying there he could almost believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be a hero too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Yakov isn't a centaur like Chiron (the mentor of Achilles and other heroes in Greek Mythology). Sorry about that but in my defense, I couldnt picture Yakov as a bare-chested bearded man with four horse legs without cracking up so I decided to go with this instead. Trust me when I say this is better.


	6. And wine-dark sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I thought I was doing so well! So, I was supposed to update on friday like usual but halfway through the week I was admitted to hospital and didn't get home until Friday afternoon so I hadn't been up to much more than catching up on some much needed sleep. I'm running out of pre-written chapters too so updating is about to get much more erratic. Sorry about that, but I have to put my health first. I haven't given up on this story, though, I promise.

When Yuuri awoke the next morning, the bed was empty. Viktor sat at the mouth of the cave, dressed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked out over the tree covered valley, Dawn already caressing the tops of the trees with her rosy fingers. Wordlessly, Yuuri rose and joined him, tucking his knees under his chin and watched the sun rise.

‘It feels strange to be so far from the sea,’ Viktor said quietly after a moment.

‘Do you miss it?’ Yuuri asked.

‘I... I’m not sure,’ Viktor admitted.

Yuuri frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Viktor wrenched his gaze from the view to take in Yuuri’s profile. ‘Yuuri, I...’ he began, silver brows knitting together. ‘I need to tell you something.’

Yuuri turned to look at him, head cocked expectantly. ‘What is it?’

‘I-’

‘Good!’ Yakov announced, his voice even more gruff in the morning, something Yuuri hadn’t thought possible. ‘You’re both awake. Enough enjoying the view. We have breakfast to catch.’

* * *

Catching breakfast turned out to be Viktor and Yuuri’s first lesson in hunting. They followed Yakov around the valley, checking traps as the immortal talked about the various flora and fauna of the forest. All of the traps were empty, but they did return with a full basket of fruit from the various trees they passed.

Once the boys had finished breakfast, Yakov took them back out into the valley, this time pointing out all the different flowers and herbs that could be used to treat infections and illness, teaching them the correct ways to harvest the plants without doing any damage and then, how to preserve them so they would last until they were needed. 

It wasn’t unpleasant work. The mountain air was clear and bright sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling Viktor’s silver hair and casting cool shadows over the underbrush. As they walked, Yakov taught them the best way to move through the forest without making a sound. The boys had fun attempting to emulate the old man’s movements, laughing when one exaggerated step sent Yuuri sprawling down a slight incline, effectively defeating the purpose in the process.

Around noon, Yakov decided it wasn’t worth continuing the lesson with the boys so distracted and left them by a river further down the mountain for a break. Yuuri blushed furiously and apologised profusely to Yakov, who brushed it off with a roll of his eyes and a scowl that could have been a smirk from a certain angle if he had squinted. Viktor, on his part, did not seem at all concerned, instead taking the opportunity to strip off and dive into the river, completely submerging himself in the cool water. It was still very early spring but the cold did not seem to affect him.

Yuuri, having learned his lesson once already, had stayed well away from the bank, contenting himself to watch as his friend dived under and popped back up over and over, alternating between begging and cajoling in an attempt to get Yuuri into the water too.

‘It’s not that cold - really!’ Viktor assured him. Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him, up to his chest in a river still swollen with snowmelt and laughed.

‘I’m fine where I am, thanks!’ he called back.

Viktor pouted. ‘You’re no fun,’ he complained.

‘Ah, but I am warm,’ Yuuri grinned.

Viktor smirked and submerged himself again. When he resurfaced, his expression had gone from contrite to downright mischievous. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he threatened and jumped onto the bank, running at Yuuri, still dripping wet. 

‘Noooooo!’ Yuuri shrieked as he was tackled to the ground by a sopping wet Viktor. He sucked in a breath as Viktor’s freezing skin pressed against his bare arms, unable to let it out again. ‘You’re _freezing_!’ Yuuri complained, trying to push the older boy off him. ‘Get off!’

To his intense relief, Viktor acquiesced immediately, rolling off Yuuri to lie splayed in a patch of sun, eyes closed and a soft smile on his face. Yuuri let go of the breath he’d been holding and plucked a handful of grass from the ground beneath him, throwing it at Viktor where it stuck to his wet skin.

‘Yuuuuriiiii,’ Viktor complained, but didn’t move or open his eyes. Yuuri ignored his feeble protest and continued to shower Viktor in grass.

‘Viktor?’ Yuuri asked after a moment of silence. 

Viktor cracked one eye open. ‘Yes, Yuuri?’

‘What were you going to tell me this morning?’

Viktor sat up, brushing grass from his shoulders. ‘Was I going to tell you something?’ he asked blithely, but Yuuri had a feeling he was stalling.

‘Yes. I asked you if you missed the sea and you said you needed to tell me something.’

Viktor’s serene expression collapsed a little. ‘Oh, yeah. I can’t remember what it was now.’

‘You’re lying.’

Viktor sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter, Yuuri. It really doesn’t.’

‘It had seemed important,’ Yuuri challenged.

‘Listen, Yuuri, please just let it go.’

‘Just tell me!’ Yuuri insisted, heart rate speeding up. If Viktor didn’t trust him enough to tell him this simple thing...

‘I wanted to tell you I missed my mother!’ Viktor snapped. Yuuri blinked at him. ‘She... We used to go swimming together every morning. The sea always reminds me of her, so yes. I miss the sea but I mostly just miss  _ her _ .’

‘That... That was it?’ Yuuri asked quietly. ‘You were just afraid of telling me you missed your mother?’

Viktor looked down and shrugged. ‘I...’

‘I miss mine too,’ Yuuri whispered and Viktor looked up.

‘I know,’ he replied with the softest smile on his face. Yuuri giggled. ‘Gods, we are pathetic,’ Viktor laughed. 

‘Tragic,’ Yuuri agreed and burst into a fit of laughter that had him rolling along the grass.

* * *

It was a half-truth, Viktor told himself. A half-truth to ease his conscience and keep Yuuri close. That morning, he had almost told Yuuri about his mother, about the divine blood that ran in his veins but Viktor remembered the way his mother had refused to show herself to Yuuri, remembered the way Yuuri had looked at him before he had become Viktor’s companion, like Viktor was something distant and untouchable, like Viktor was a mountain and Yuuri was a molehill. He remembered how Yuuri had laughed at Yakov the night before until he had remembered his divine status and he didn’t  _ ever _ want Yuuri to look at Viktor like that again.

So, it was a half-truth that spilled from Viktor’s lips at Yuuri’s persistence. An admission, even though Yuuri would never take it as such, never understand exactly what Viktor, fearless, thoughtless Viktor, was too afraid to say. 

Yuuri would never bring up that morning again and soon, their mornings would blend together into a seamless tide of sunrises and lessons, hunting trips and laughter enough to make Yakov’s eyes roll. Their activities differed from day-to-day, their lessons starting at dawn and covering subjects and skills Viktor and Yuuri had never even considered before. Yakov taught them survival skills, how to cook, and how to dress and bind wounds. He showed them where to hit a deer with an arrow so it died instantly and painlessly and taught them how to navigate the forest until they each knew the entire mountain like they did their own skin. He even taught Viktor and Yuuri wood carving, how to craft not only tools and weapons, but musical instruments and sculptures. 

One night, as the fire flickered in the cave’s pit, making the entire crystal cave glow gold, Viktor asked the question that had been bothering him for weeks.

‘Yakov, will you teach us how to fight?’

Yakov didn’t look up at the question, but Viktor caught Yuuri looking at him from the corner of his eye. ‘Do you think you need to be taught?’ Yakov asked with one eyebrow raised.

‘I don’t know,’ Viktor admitted.  _ He didn’t know what he didn’t know, right? _

Yakov finally met his gaze. ‘Stand, both of you,’ he ordered. Viktor and Yuuri scrambled to their feet. Yakov stood and retreated further into the cave, returning with two bronze  _ kopides _ , swords with curving blades, hilts polished smooth with use. He handed one to each boy. ‘Go through your drills,’ he instructed. Viktor, for once, obeyed immediately, stepping away from the fire and running through his movements. He knew exactly where to step, where to turn, where to strike to be deadly, like an instinct. Yuuri looked far less sure of himself with his hands around the sword, going through what looked like clumsy half-remembered drills from a time before he had become Viktor’s companion. Viktor watched him with curiosity. Yuuri was not dangerous, he lacked the streak of cruelty in him to be a good Phthian soldier and Viktor sensed that Yakov had seen it too. Yuuri was too pure a soul to taint with warfare unless it was something worth fighting and dying and killing for. Perhaps not even then.

As far as Viktor was concerned, Yuuri already had too much blood on his still-small hands.

Still, Viktor reserved no such concessions for himself. His mother had made it clear from early on in his life: Viktor was a weapon and regardless of the way he acted around Yuuri, he did not ever think he could see himself as anything else. Viktor’s destiny was written in the stars, red with blood or red with shame, it did not matter. Viktor was fifteen, no longer a child, but a young man - something his father had been very quick to remind him of the night before he and Yuuri had left Phthia.

_ Have you decided yet? _ The king had asked and Viktor had been struck by a sense of frustrated deja-vu.  _ Have you decided yet? _ Always the question on his parents’ lips. Always the words weighing over every conversation they ever had. Every topic rested on the future, on Viktor’s decision, on which destiny he would choose for himself.

And for Yuuri, he realised. Yuuri, who had followed him to this place, Yuuri who Viktor could no longer imagine living without. Yuuri, his best friend. Viktor wondered in that moment, watching Yuuri’s shaky movements with the sword, so much less sure than they had been that day at Viktor’s secluded training grove, just how closely their destinies were intertwined, wondered just what exactly the Fates had in store for them both.

Yuuri and Viktor noticed, almost at the same time, that Viktor had ceased his movements to watch the younger boy. Under both Viktor and Yakov’s scrutiny, Yuuri faltered and swallowed thickly, setting the end of the sword down on the cavern floor.

Yakov sat back and eyed them both. ‘I cannot teach either of you.’ He looked Viktor directly in the eye and Viktor saw something in there that betrayed Yakov’s immortal status. The blue-grey of his irises were too dark, the glint in them too bright. ‘You were made for war, boy. I cannot improve on what you have already been given.’ He looked to Yuuri, expression flat and unreadable. ‘I am not the teacher you need, Yuuri,’ he said and that was that.

Not too much later, Yakov stood and bade them both goodnight, disappearing through the cave mouth into the night, as had become their routine. Yuuri was quiet as they got ready for bed, an expression he didn’t wear often on his face. If Viktor had been wearing it, it would have been contrite. On Yuuri it looked more like defeat.

‘I am sorry, Yuuri,’ Viktor said quietly once they were both settled. Yuuri stared resolutely up at the crystal ceiling and Viktor followed his gaze heavenward, taking in the constellations that could be seen there. ‘I didn’t mean for it to go that way.’

‘He is right,’ Yuuri said and Viktor tried to ignore the waver in the younger boy’s voice

It didn’t work. ‘Perhaps he is,’ Viktor mused after a moment. Finally, Yuuri looked at him something like resigned hurt in his eyes. ‘Perhaps he is not the right teacher for you,’ Viktor continued, stressing the word “he” so Yuuri would grasp his meaning. Yuuri watched him with big wary brown eyes. ‘Perhaps...’ Viktor smirked. ‘Perhaps I would be a better teacher for you.’

Yuuri rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow so he could see Viktor better. There was a challenge written on his face, beneath his skin. ‘You think you can teach me?’

There were a million ways Viktor could take that.  _ You think you are capable of teaching me? You think I am capable of being taught? _ The answer, of course, was yes to all. Yuuri may not have Viktor’s gifts but then again, no one did.

‘Do you want to be taught?’ Viktor asked because even though Yuuri had looked so defeated at the idea that Yakov could not teach him, the thought of Yuuri causing any harm to anyone still did not seem to work in his head.

‘I am not weak,’ Yuuri insisted, like that answered the question. 

Viktor nodded, because it did. There would be no harm in teaching Yuuri how to fight. Just because he had the skill didn’t mean he would ever have to use it, right? Besides, Viktor supposed, swallowing his guilt before it could make him sick, with the future Viktor himself was facing down, he would never forgive himself if he left Yuuri without the means to defend himself.

‘Then I will teach you,’ Viktor said quietly. ‘But only if you ask.’

‘Teach me,’ Yuuri said.

The next afternoon, when Yakov left Viktor and Yuuri on the banks of the river to eat their lunch and disappeared, Yuuri set his gaze on Viktor, daring him to fulfil his promise without so much as a word. Viktor smirked and walked backwards to the treeline, spotting what he was looking for and kicking it up from the ground with a flick of his toes into his hand.

‘If we are going to do this, you have to watch carefully,’ Viktor said, gripping the stick with both hands in a ready position. ‘I will demonstrate and you will copy. That is how we will start.’

Yuuri nodded eagerly and grinned up at him from slightly lower down on the bank of the river. Viktor took that as his cue. He moved, far slower than usual, but maintaining as much fluidity in his movements as he could whilst moving at a quarter speed. He repeated the same motion a few times and then tossed the stick at Yuuri. 

‘You try,’ Viktor instructed.

Yuuri did.

* * *

Yuuri improved quickly under Viktor’s tutelage. Sooner than Viktor expected, they had progressed from Viktor just teaching him moves to actually sparring, sticks clashing with resounding clacks as they play-fought by the river. Yuuri was still nowhere near Viktor’s level, but he was learning and he was learning well.

It helped that Viktor realised he was growing, too. He had always been much shorter than Viktor, but as spring turned into summer, the distance in their heights began to lessen. Under Yakov’s watchful eye, they completed their daily activities, the physical nature of most of them helping fill out their lengthening frames. By the time summer was drawing to a close, Viktor could touch the stars on the cave’s ceiling if he stood on the bed and stretched. By the time autumn swept over the valley, Yuuri was able to disarm Viktor if the older boy was sufficiently distracted. By the time autumn gave way to winter, Viktor could haul a deer carcass up the mountain to the cave singlehanded. 

When Yuuri turned fifteen, Viktor surprised him by presenting the boy with a lyre he had made himself, the strings already perfectly tuned. Yuuri had then insisted that Viktor give a demonstration of his creation and the boys had spent the night sitting by the fire, singing and playing long after Yakov had disappeared for the night. At some point, Viktor had handed the lyre to Yuuri and stood, dancing around the cave under the carved stars, singing like they had done during their music lessons back at the palace. Yuuri watched him as Viktor struck a pose at the end of one song, standing at the mouth of the cave, silhouetted against the moonlit valley. Yuuri's brown eyes reflected the flickering flames of the fire. There was something beautiful about that moment, Viktor decided. Yuuri, the very picture of joy and youth, nothing but the impossibly carved constellations overhead and the real things at Viktor’s back. Something tugged at Viktor’s chest, made him fall out of his pose slowly until he was just standing there. Absently, he wondered if this moment right there, as he and Yuuri stared at each other over the dying flames, was what love felt like. Yuuri had been Viktor’s best friend for a long time now and Viktor had always loved him for it, but in that moment, it was something else entirely. It felt like the kind of love that Aphrodite wielded like a weapon, the kind of love that drove men mad.

Then Yuuri had yawned and the spell had been broken.

Viktor shook the thought out of his head and smirked. ‘Come on, let’s go to sleep.’

Yuuri nodded gratefully and they fell into their usual routine once more. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Viktor stared up at the roof of the cave and wondered just how many gods were laughing at him right now.

* * *

At least one god  _ was _ laughing at that particular moment, though not directly at Viktor: she had bigger fish to catch. On the other side of the Aegean Sea, Aphrodite, goddess of love and lust, mother of Eros, stole into the room of a sleeping prince and whispered,  _ a promise is a promise, my prince. Time to go to Sparta. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooooo boy the proverbial crap is about to hit the fan my friends. For those of you who aren't familiar with legends of the cause of the Trojan War, I will try to make it as clear as possible in the next chapter without the pre-existing mythological context, but if you need any clarification on anything - or just want to talk about viktuuri, YOI or classics - leave a comment or feel free to message me on tumblr (trebelandbass is my url) I'm more than happy to chat about anything.
> 
> I will try to get the next chapter up on friday as usual but no promises there.
> 
> I hope that the romance wasn't too sudden??? I don't know. It just kinda happened like that. Whoops.


	7. A siren's call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FOR MY DEAR READERS: Okay so I know that I missed last week's update. Sorry. I just haven't been having a good week or so and I have made a decision. For health/personal reasons, I have decided to put this fic on semi-hiatus. This is because I have the ideas/plans but am (for various reasons) unable to write. This means that if I have the energy/time etc to write, I will and if it is up to a standard that I am happy with, I will update.   
> So, if you are enjoying this story please, subscribe/bookmark/comment/kudos/reccommend it to your friends - every little bit helps me stay motivated and energized even on the worst days. I will try and reply to all your comments, my tumblr ( trebelandbass.tumblr.com ) is always open for asks/private messages if you want to talk to me about this fic, my other works or Victuuri/YOI in general.   
> I hate that I have to do this because I love this story and these characters and I love you all for commenting and leaving kudos - truly, but I do not want to publish sub-standard content and I do not want to ruin my motivation by stressing about keeping up with an update schedule.   
> I hope that you have all enjoyed this fic so far, and that you'll still be reading it moving forward, even if progress is slower than usual.
> 
> So, without further ado: here is chapter 7!  
> Enjoy!
> 
> May xxx

_ Viktor is six and already he can run like the wind. He and his father have travelled to Hasetsu, where the annual games are being held that year. The sea breeze lifts his spirits, even through the anxiousness of travelling so far from Phthia for the first time. It makes him feel at home, where the seagulls swoop and dive through the air and he can bury his toes in the sand.  _

_ When the race begins, he runs like if only he ran fast enough he could take off and join the gulls in their airborne dance and w _ _ hen the laurels of victory are placed on his silver head, he can almost hear them laughing at him. _

_ Viktor is ten and his mother tells him a story, the story of his life as the Fates declared it when he was born. She tells him the story of a boy born to be a hero, born to take his father’s crown, born to take on the very gods themselves. She tells him that one day, far off in the future, this boy would make history. That he would carve out his place in the world even if he died trying. She tells him that he was a gift from the gods to his father for being pious. She whispers to him, barely audible over the sound of the waves surrounding them, that this made him strong. Gifts from the gods had a way of making you pay for them, she says, almost hopefully, a sound like laughter splitting her blue lips, like she is encouraging it.   _

_ When Viktor runs from the sea that day, he runs like if only he ran fast enough he could outrun the Fates themselves. Looking back, he is certain the Fates were laughing as his heels hit the sand. _

* * *

It was with a sense of trepidation that Viktor awoke from the dream. He had not dreamed of those events in years, and thinking of them always left him feeling... uneasy. 

The sun was just peaking over the tops of the trees, hitting the crystalline surface of the cave roof at such an angle that the place glittered with sparkling rainbows. It was Viktor’s favourite time of day, these few minutes. He and Yuuri were huddled under thick furs to keep out the winter chill, Yuuri still asleep at his side, the cave full of light and colour. It was beautiful and soft, perfectly tranquil.

Yuuri scrunched his nose in his sleep and sighed almost wistfully as he dreamed and Viktor had to bite his lip to suppress a laugh. He almost felt guilty about how adorable he found the younger boy. No, younger  _ man _ . Yuuri was fifteen now. By all accounts, neither of them were considered children anymore. They were old enough to lead armies and rule kingdoms without aid, to lay down their lives in defence of their lands or the lands of his allies.

Still, made soft by sleep, Yuuri reminded Viktor of the boy he had met three years ago, the exiled Prince who had never wanted to be a king. He looked more like the boy who had first captured his attention without trying, remote and yet calling out for something to hold on to. Yuuri had come a long way since then and Viktor’s heart swelled with pride at the thought of the man Yuuri had become.

Under Yakov, Yuuri had become a skilled healer, unparalleled by anyone Viktor had ever known besides Yakov himself. He was not as skilled a hunter as Viktor was, but it didn't matter. As long as they were together, they would look after each other. Under Viktor, Yuuri had finally found his feet as a warrior, learning quickly how to attack and defend in the same manner Viktor did; all fluidity and quick-thinking. He was not as deadly as Viktor, probably never would be in that regard, but he would make a good second-in-command if it ever came down to it.

The thought was not as comforting as it should be, Viktor noted with a sick twisting in his gut. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to stay here, curled up with Yuuri, far away from anything and anyone that threatened to tear them apart. The Fates and Furies and gods be damned. Here it was warm and comfortable, with one of the best views you could find anywhere. Viktor smirked. The scenery was pretty too. When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the light caress his face through the curtain of animal hides. He could smell the crisp mountain air and the biting chill from outside even over the hint of smoke still hanging around the extinguished fire pit.

It was the closest thing to home Viktor had ever felt besides the sea. Phthia may have been his birthplace, but it was still his father's kingdom. Here on Pelion, he felt like the king of his own little world.

Viktor opened his eyes to find Yuuri looking sleepily at him.

‘Good morning,’ Viktor smiled. 

Yuuri blinked and yawned, closing his eyes again. ‘Mmmph... Morning.’ 

Gently extricating himself with a slight pang, Viktor got up and took a peek through the curtains out to the valley beyond. ‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ Viktor grinned, returning to Yuuri and trying to grab his hands. ‘Yakov will be coming soon. We have to get ready for the day.’

‘Nooooo...’ Yuuri murmured. 

Viktor sent him a look. ‘I will actually haul you out of bed if I have to. You know I can do it.’

It was true. Viktor had never truly explored the full extent of his strength - somehow it was easier not to know just how much he was capable of if he pushed himself - but he and Yuuri both knew Viktor would have no trouble lifting him.

Yuuri's eyes went wide and he pulled the blankets up to his nose. ‘Nooooooo... Viktooooor... ‘s warmmmm...’ came his muffled voice and Viktor sighed.

‘I warned you,’ he said, deliberately filling his voice with enough cheer to infuriate Yuuri, and bent over, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist, blankets and all, hauling him over his shoulder and turning to walk outside. 

‘Viktor! No! Viktor! Please!’ Yuuri shrieked, the first hint of unease in his voice as he squirmed in Viktors unrelenting grip. 

‘This is what happens when you don't get up in time, Yuuri,’ Viktor laughed and Yuuri went very, very still.

‘Okay I'm up,’ he said seriously, voice strained and deliberately calm. ‘Please. Let me go.’

Guiltily, Viktor did as Yuuri said, remembering too late how badly Yuuri reacted to being overpowered. He had never heard the full story, but he thought it had something to do with what happened to Takeshi.

‘Sorry, Yuuri,’ Viktor apologised, setting his companion back on his feet. ‘I forgot.’

Yuuri huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders, glaring at Viktor through dark lashes.

* * *

Yuuri swung his blade with determination. Viktor parried the blow but in his eyes there was something other than amusement for once.

‘Yuuri, please,’ he puffed. ‘Can we call it a day?’

Yuuri grit his teeth and glared at Viktor. Yes, he was losing but he wasn't losing  _ that  _ badly, was he? If Viktor was protecting him again...

‘I'm going to disarm you at least once today,’ Yuuri growled. Viktor twisted his lips into a snarl as he swished his blade around Yuuri's hilt, sending it flying, point first, into the grass where it stuck.

‘We have been at this for hours, Yuuri. You're not going to beat me today. You're not on form. Anything on your mind I should know about?’

Yuuri pursed his lips and spun around, gripping the hilt of his  _ kopis _ and wrenching it free. ‘Again,’ he demanded, rather than answering the question and Viktor sighed.  _ Too bad _ . He thought. There was absolutely no way Yuuri was going to tell Viktor what was wrong. Yuuri's own head was what was wrong - and Viktor’s place in it. 

He’d had the dream again last night. The nightmares about Takeshi had never truly stopped, but they had become far far less frequent over the years to the point where Yuuri managed to forget about them sometimes. Then, like last night, when they did return, it left him feeling sick, gasping awake shaking and nauseated. Except last night...

Last night Yuuri had awoken to Viktor's head nuzzled into his neck like he did sometimes, snoring quietly with his arms wrapped loosely around Yuuri's waist,  his soft silver hair falling over his face. Yuuri had watched him sleep for a few moments, lit only by the barest glow from the fire pit, and all the horrible feelings the dream had brought back to the surface quietened and shrank back through whichever door in Yuuri's heart they had come from. The tranquility of the scene, the gentleness on Viktor's sleeping face had soothed him enough that for once Yuuri had no trouble falling back asleep again.

Then, he'd had another dream.

Viktor, lying spread out on the grass by the riverbank, splayed out in all his glory. it was nighttime, but pleasantly warm, with nothing but the sound of the river and the nightlife of the forest to break the silence that had descended over the valley. He raised his arm and pointed at the sky over Yuuri's shoulder. ‘Look, Yuuri!’ he had said. ‘You're made of stars!’

Yuuri had turned and looked, following Viktor’s gaze and gasped. A whole new constellation had appeared in the sky, too detailed to be possible, but there it was; a boy with his head thrown back, hunched over a lyre. His hair streamed out behind him in a single long rope. It was Viktor. It couldn't have been anyone else and Yuuri thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Something had tugged on his hand, previously hanging limp by his side and Viktor pulled Yuuri off his feet on top of him in a move he'd used many times before, but this time it felt different. ‘Yuuri,’ he had said, like it explained everything, and smiled, blindingly genuine for a moment before it faded into something more sombre. ‘You're going to be the death of me,’ he whispered and Yuuri didn't have time to respond because Viktor had taken the opportunity of his surprise and kissed him.

The kiss had been soft and slow at first, lingering and languid. Viktor had teased Yuuri's lips open to deepen the kiss and Yuuri had let him without complaint. His heart had pounded in his ears. Viktor had murmured Yuuri's name again against his lips and the syllables sounded heavy with want in a way they had never done before. ‘Yuuri,’ Viktor repeated, voice deep, laden with promise and desire enough to make Yuuri's toes curl. Viktor moved his mouth down Yuuri's neck and Yuuri had gasped at the sensation, internally preening because this was  _ Viktor _ and-

\- and Viktor would never do this in real life. Yuuri’s eyes had opened to the sight of Viktor lying on his side on the pallet they shared, none of the passion of the dream Viktor present at all. A little desperately, Yuuri had tried to close his eyes. He had wanted to go back to sleep and back to the dream but before he could, Viktor's eyes had opened and found his and he was smiling like he always did in that impossible soft bow curve and Yuuri had struggled to breathe for a moment.

Yuuri had been unable to get the image of Viktor beneath him, of Viktor's  _ mouth _ and his  _ hands _ on him, out of his mind for the rest of the day. 

Which was why Yuuri had been so determined to spar that morning, hoping to work away some of the frustration steadily building inside him. Why, now that Viktor had pointed out Yuuri's distraction, Yuuri flushed a deep red and insisted they go again instead of answering the question. He was just getting himself worked up over nothing. It was just... a dalliance on his part. A fantasy that would haunt him for a few days and then he’d get over it. After all, Viktor was still Viktor and Yuuri was still Yuuri and they were  _ friends _ . Best friends, companions. Heroes-in-training. That was more important than any... uh... whatever it was that had happened in his dream the previous night. Right? 

Yuuri didn't... He didn't... have  _ feelings _ for Viktor, right?

Yuuri swung at the boy in question perhaps a little too savagely and Viktor barely managed to parry in time.

‘Yuuri!’ he cried out in shock and Yuuri dropped his sword when he saw the tiniest line of red mar Viktor’s perfectly smooth shoulder. 

‘I-I'm sorry!’ Yuuri cried. ‘I didn't mean to hurt you, I just wanted-’ Yuuri shook his head and turned, running down along the bank and into the trees, Viktor staring hopelessly after him. He needed to be alone for a while, just until he had his head on straight and he could look at Viktor without wanting-

Yuuri flushed and picked up his pace, moving through the trees with the speed of someone who inhabited the forest like it was their home. He wasn’t as fast as Viktor, but no one was as fast as Viktor.

Maybe a run would do him some good.

* * *

A week later, and Viktor’s sixteenth birthday was upon them. Viktor was pulled from sleep by a call on the wind, like a whisper, in a voice he recognised.

_ Viktor... _

The word sounded like waves crashing over rocks and Viktor arose, pulling his tunic over his head as he followed it.

He finally found the source as he neared the river. Not the spot he and Yuuri always came to to spar, but further east, towards Phthia and the sea. ‘Mother,’ Viktor said, bowing his head in greeting as he realised he had forgotten to tie his hair back before he had left the cave. 

The woman waiting for him did not smile, she rarely ever smiled and there was something tense in the way she stood before him. Her hair, the colour of the seafoam glinted silver under the early morning sunrise. She was taller than him, Viktor realised with no small amount of surprise. He had never seen her step foot on land before. They had always spoken at eye height with one another, heads level as they floated in the water. To have her standing in front of him was jarring to say the least. It made him feel very young and out of place.

_ ‘War is coming,’ _ she said. There was something electric in the way she spoke, charged in the same way the air got in anticipation of a thunderstorm. 

‘Good morning to you too,’ Viktor quipped. He loved his mother as any good son should, but he had not missed her daily reminders. Especially since he hadn’t seen her since he and Yuuri had left for Pelion. ‘What is new with you?’

_ 'You don’t understand,’  _ his mother rasped.  _ ‘War is almost upon you. The call has gone up already, you just don’t know it. You need to run. _ ’

Viktor’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. This was different. She seemed desperate, had braved stepping foot on  _ land _ just to tell him this. ‘And here I had thought you were here to wish me a happy birthday.’

_ ‘Leave,’  _ she insisted.

‘Why?’ Viktor countered. She hadn't asked him about his decision for once. She seemed to have made it for him. 

_ ‘Do you remember Sparta?’  _  she hissed. It took a moment for Viktor to understand what she was talking about and when he did, a stone heavy and solid settled in his gut.  _ ‘If you do not run,’  _ his mother warned.  _ ‘If you do not go now, you won't have a choice.’ _

* * *

For once, Yuuri awoke to an empty bed, Viktor nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Yuuri got up and dressed, determined to try and find him. He was just washing his face in the basin in the rear of the cave when the animal hide door that hung across the cave flapped open.

‘You’re up,’ Viktor said, something uneasy in his eyes vanishing as he caught sight of Yuuri fully dressed, despite the early hour. 

‘Didn’t want another wake up call like last week,’ Yuuri mumbled and Viktor laughed.

‘Good.’ His blue eyes twinkled in the low light of the cave, the shaft of morning sunlight that found it’s way through the gap in the curtain the only illumination, streaming in from behind him and haloing the back of his head of silver hair. ‘Yakov gave us the day off lessons today,’ he said breezily. ‘His birthday present for me.’

Yuuri smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Spending his free time with Viktor at the moment was... difficult. During their off hours, when they weren’t practicing their swordplay, Yuuri had taken to wandering the forest alone. Sometimes Yakov went with him and they would pick healing herbs and discuss medicine. Other times, he would go alone, exploring further and further away from the cave each day, idly checking traps in case anything had happened upon them, taking note whenever he found a tree that would bear fruit in the spring, or provide wood pliant enough to be made useful as a bow or could be carved into a work of art. 

Sometimes he would take Makkachin and they would trek through the woods together, following the paths forged by the animals of the forest, now that he had grown tall enough to ride Makka without difficulty. The horse roamed more or less freely about the mountainside but was always there when Yuuri or Viktor needed him. He was no worse for wear having spent the last three years outside the palace stables. The two facts combined to give Yuuri the feeling Makkachin wasn't entirely... normal. He was a good horse, though, and a good companion for Yuuri’s little solo adventures when being around Viktor became too much. 

He wasn't even sure Viktor had noticed. Part of him wished he had, wished that Viktor felt every moment that weren't together the same way Yuuri did, but another part hoped he didn't. Let Viktor believe everything was fine. There was no reason for him to feel guilty over Yuuri's troubled heart.

He never walked along the bank of the river that ran down the mountain. Something, instinct perhaps, made him stay away from the river when he wasn’t with Viktor or Yakov. He didn’t trust the water, even though it was currently frozen over as winter held the valley tightly in her grip. It seemed to...  _ alive  _ to be just ice, like it was watching him somehow. He never really felt safe around the water without Viktor there, like it was a hostile thing Viktors presence kept in check.

Now though, back to the entrance of their crystal cave and no imminent interruptions in the form of the immortally irascible Yakov, Viktor looked at him with purpose, and Yuuri could see the energy Viktor caged beneath his skin was coiled tight.

‘What is it?’ Yuuri asked.

* * *

Viktor stoked the fire he and Yuuri had built to keep away the winter chill. His skin itched with nerves. There was something uncomfortably heavy in Yuuri’s silences of late, but he hadn’t wanted to push. He’d had  _ time _ , he’d thought. Time enough to decide what he wanted to do.

_ Have you decided yet? _ His mother hadn’t asked him this time, but he was asking himself now.

_ Do you remember Sparta? _ She had asked, and suddenly all the pieces of his life had fallen into terrifying clarity; the prophecies, the answer to why his destiny was so important, the reason he had been brought into this world by the gods. Every aspect of his life suddenly made sense except one: Yuuri.

Yuuri was the one thing the Fates hadn’t foreseen, or perhaps they had just determined him to be unimportant. Either way, they had made a mistake. Viktor thought about the future, and the mere prospect of it enough to set his heart racing, fight or flight responses tearing him equally in two.

_ Have you decided yet? _

Viktor wanted to tear his hair out, to scream, to run just to feel his feet pounding into the earth. But Yuuri was here with him and he had been in Viktor’s life so long that the prince could hardly imagine continuing on without him. Nothing made him feel as grounded as Yuuri did, nothing in his life had been as constant as Yuuri’s friendship and loyalty, nothing as beautiful as Yuuri’s brown eyes, and yet, if he were called to fight, now he  _ was going to be called to fight _ , all Viktor could think about was what Yuuri would think of him if he fled. What Yuuri would think of him if he fought. Would Yuuri go with him? Would Yuuri to follow him into exile when exile is what had sent Yuuri to Viktor in the first place? Did Viktor have the strength to ask Yuuri to uproot himself - his very identity - again, just to bear witness Viktor’s cowardice? 

And what of the alternative? What if Viktor accepted his fate and did the honourable thing? What if he chose a short life, a hero's life? Would Yuuri follow Viktor down the path to a mortal’s immortality? Viktor would never ask him to, would never forgive himself if he dragged Yuuri into a situation that -  _ Gods forbid _ \- got him hurt. But what if Yuuri  _ wanted _ to go with him? Yuuri had a stubborn streak in him and Viktor wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to say no if it came down to it. He had never really been able to say no to Yuuri. 

‘Viktor...’ Yuuri broke the silence that had lain thick over the cave. Concern coloured his voice and Viktor realised that he must have picked up on his unease. ‘Viktor, what is wrong?’ He sat on one of the huge logs that surrounded the fire pit, poking at the flames with a stick to encourage them to burn brighter. The fire bathed the cave in an ethereal glow. It gave the scene an almost dreamlike quality. 

Viktor rounded the fire, sat down next to Yuuri, unable to stand the distance between them. He needed the grounding weight of Yuuri beside him, needed it in a way that transcended any feelings he had for his companion, romantic or otherwise. He was like an extension of Viktor himself, a third leg that kept Viktor balanced, and right now, Viktor feared that Yuuri was the only one that could stop him from falling. 

He wanted to run, he realised. He wanted to hide. He didn’t want to fight.

But what he wanted didn't really matter did it?

Viktor turned to look at Yuuri, one leg either side of the log. ‘Viktor,’ Yuuri said, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. Viktor shuffled closer, burying his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck, willing his mind to clear as he breathed in the scent of Yuuri’s skin.

‘Viktor,’ Yuuri repeated his name like a sigh and Viktor could practically feel Yuuri’s breathless voice shudder through them both. ‘Viktor, something is wrong, I can tell. What is it?’

‘I need-’ Viktor couldn’t quite seem to finish the sentence. He needed to know what Yuuri felt about him, what Yuuri wanted him to do, he needed to know so many things, but he couldn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to have to say anything else. There was so much he needed to tell Yuuri, about his parentage, about his past. He had been keeping it hidden for too long. He was a coward, afraid of Yuuri’s reaction, afraid of losing the look Yuuri had when he looked at Viktor, like he was a human being that Yuuri adored. Yuuri was the only one who ever looked at Viktor like that. He couldn’t lose him. Not to this. 

‘Viktor.’ Yuuri’s fingers tugged lightly on Viktor’s hair falling freely across his shoulders and Viktor looked up at him. ‘What can I do?’

Yuuri was asking for instructions, waiting for Viktor’s signal, eyes open and inviting and Viktor needed to know, just once.

Viktor closed the infinitesimal distance between them and kissed Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri made a tiny noise of surprise and nothing else in that moment mattered. Not Viktor’s mother and her demands, not the war that was apparently on their doorstep. Not Sparta and everything that had happened there. Not Yakov wandering the mountainside doing whatever it was that he did when he wasn’t with the boys because Yuuri’s hands were in Viktor’s hair and he was  _ kissing back _ . 

It was clumsy and hesitant, both of them breaking new ground, but by the time he pulled away, Viktor’s heart had swelled with a courage he hadn’t possessed before.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Viktor whispered, resting his forehead on Yuuri’s as they both huffed out a nervous laugh.

‘What is it?’ Yuuri asked.

Viktor closed his eyes. ‘The truth.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I'm deviating from the original mythology a bit but oh well. I kinda like my version so I'm sticking to it and its not like there was any sort of consistency in the Ancient Greek mythology anyway.
> 
> If you don't know what Viktor and his mother are referring to when they talk about Sparta, all will be revealed next chapter!


	8. Commanding Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, this will be the last chapter for a while, as we reach the end of my mostly pre-written chapters. Also, I tried but I cant really write romance so please don't expect much lol. This chapter is a little longer(ish) too, so consider it a thank you to you all for being so patient with me.

‘All my life I had known I would be asked to fight a war.’

Yuuri had watched Viktor talk with only half his attention focused on what he was saying, a natural consequence to the fact that  _ Viktor had just kissed him _ , but those words brought him crashing back down to earth. Yuuri recognised that tone; the one he used so rarely, the one that spoke of gods and fate like they weren't just concepts and stories. Like they weren't beings set apart from mortals such as them. Viktor was defiant in the face of any authority that wasn't his own, but, like all good Archaeons, he was mostly humble when it came to the divine.

‘Today,’ Viktor said like he was rehearsing a speech. ‘I was finally told why.’ 

Viktor took a deep breath and told a story. He spoke of a young girl, orphaned and in her brother's care. A princess, the sister of a king. The most beautiful woman the world had ever known. He told how she had come of age, how men and boys had gathered in Sparta from all across the Aegean coast and beyond in the hopes of making her his wife. Viktor told Yuuri how he and the king of Phthia had been amongst the gathered suitors. ‘Phthia is small,’ he explained without much enthusiasm. ‘A marriage alliance with Sparta would have been... advantageous.’ He continued the story, spouting names Yuuri knew of by reputation from his time at both Phthian and Hasetsu court, Leo, Prince of Salamis... Guang Hong of Meliboea... Phichit of Aetolia... Jean-Jaques, recently crowned King of Mycenae, who called himself the king of men.

Michele, the king of Sparta, Viktor reported, had been reluctant to choose a suitor for his sister. His love for his sibling was fierce and there was too much riding on the decision, too many kings would be displeased no matter what he chose so instead, one of the boys around Viktor's age had made a suggestion.

_ Let the girl choose for herself _ , the strange boy had suggested.  _ And before she chooses, let every suitor here make an oath. _

‘The oath had been a simple one,’ Viktor remembered. ‘To defend Sara of Sparta's choice by any means necessary, no matter who she chose.’

Yuuri raised an eyebrow, posing his first question. ‘Who did she choose?’

Viktor smirked, like the memory amused him. ‘She chose none.’

‘But-’ Yuuri spluttered. ‘Why?’

Viktor shrugged. ‘Her reasons were her own. I wouldn't know anyway. We never really spoke.’ He looked at Yuuri through guarded eyes, serious behind the ghost of a smirk still dissipating from his face. ‘That's the thing though, Yuuri. That oath. So many kings, so many kingdoms bound to one girl's choice  _ by any means necessary. _ ’

Yuuri's eyes widened. ‘Including war?’ he whispered. ‘You think... you think you will have to wage war for her?’

Viktor shrugged. ‘It makes sense.’

‘And if you are bound by an _oath_...’ Yuuri continued.

‘I would be defying the gods to break it.’

‘Would you?’ Yuuri asked, searching Viktor's face - for once so open and raw that Yuuri couldn't help but be compelled to drink it all in, to memorize that look because it was one that was meant just for him. ‘Would you defy the gods?’

Viktor swallowed. ‘It's a little more complicated than that,’ he hedged.

‘How so?’

Viktor grimaced and stood up, suddenly restless. Tension lined his shoulders as he stalked away from the fire. He reached the curtain and pulled it back. Yuuri followed him, but Viktor would no longer meet his eyes.

‘The rumours are true,’ Viktor murmured after a long moment, staring out of the cave mouth at the forest below. ‘About my mother. She’s a sea goddess,’ Viktor continued, his voice strained like the words hurt his throat to voice out loud. Yuuri didn't make a sound. He had always known, somehow, that Viktor was more than ordinary, more than a mere mortal. ‘Its why I love the sea. It makes me feel... closer to her somehow. When I was younger, she used to come to me, play with me in the water, but she would never step foot on the beach.’

‘Why not?’ Yuuri asked, curious eyes searching the profile view of Viktor’s face, lost in thought, untouchable in the moonlight.

‘My father,’ Viktor replied and at the mention of the King of Pythia, his voice took on a low, darker quality that made Yuuri shiver. ‘She was afraid that stepping foot on land would mean she would have to go back to him. That he would catch her again, that she would be forced away from the sea. I never truly understood why until now, never appreciated it until I didn't have it anymore. The waves... the seagulls...’

‘Viktor...’

‘I didn’t mind though, because I had you, but...’ he sighed. ‘I am looking forward to seeing it again. Even if it means... Even if it means I won’t come back.’

‘Viktor.’ Yuuri found tears pricking at his eyes. The word came out of his throat as a choked whisper, thick and strangled with a sense of impending heartbreak.  _ If Viktor was going to leave him... _

‘You have to understand, Yuuri,’ Viktor said, finally looking at him. ‘I need you to understand. My mother is a changeable being, but she always told me, “Viktor, all you have in this life is your pride and your honour and when you die, if you die right, you may have glory in the next. That is true immortality.”’

‘You’re... You’re going then?’ Yuuri asked, forcing the words out. ‘You’re going to fight?’

Viktor sighed. ‘I made an oath, Yuuri. I can't break it now. I don't have a choice.’

Yuuri took in a deep steadying breath and when he spoke next, his voice was calm. ‘Then I’m going with you,’ he decided. There had never been any question. There was no room for debate. If Viktor’s oath was going to lead him to war, then Yuuri’s would too.

Viktor nodded like he understood and gazed out at the view before them. He took Yuuri's hand in his and they stayed there like that for a long while.

‘Thank you,’ Viktor said finally. ‘I wouldn't have it any other way.’ It sounded like a lie, but Yuuri didn’t question it, not when Viktor was letting him have what he wanted without an argument.

Yuuri didn't say anything in return. He didn't have to. Something new had settled between them. The warmth of Viktors lips still clung to Yuuri's like a ghost, tying them together. His mere presence was a promise, their joined hands were a vow. He knew what it was like to leave home with the knowledge he could never return. He would be damned to Tartarus before he let Viktor go through the same thing alone.

'Viktor,'  Yuuri whispered. It seemed strange suddenly that they were sitting under the weak winter sun. He squeezed Viktor's had and asked, 'Will they come for you today?'

Viktor bowed his head. 'I do not think so,' he admitted. Yuuri nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want Viktor to wallow in this. He needed to do something to help him. 

Yuuri dropped his hand and crawled closer until he was practically sitting in Viktor’s lap. 'Is there anything that can be done to prepare in advance?' he asked. Viktor shook his head wordlessly, refusing to meet Yuuri's eyes. Yuuri cupped Viktor's face in his palms and applied just enough pressure to get the older boy to look at him. He arranged his face into what he hoped would be a confident smile, even though his heart was hammering like a hummingbird’s wings at the proximity and possibility of their position. 'Let's not think of the future then. Not today,' Yuuri had wanted to make it a suggestion but it sounded more like a plea and the sound of his voice made Yuuri wince. However, it seemed to do the trick. Yuuri watched with a tiny internal whoop of triumph as the desperation faded from Viktor's eyes.

'Good idea,' Viktor murmured, distractedly licking his lips as his eyes scanned Yuuri's face. He looked surprised to see Yuuri still sitting between his knees, and Yuuri wondered just how much he had thought it would cost him to finally admit the truth.

From this angle, Yuuri actually found himself at a height advantage for once and he used it, trembling slightly with each rapid heartbeat as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Viktor’s. Viktor hummed and wrapped his arms around Yuuri's waist, sending a shiver down his spine. Unlike last time, this kiss was languid and soft, luxurious in it's quiet pace like they had all the time in the world. It was easy to think they could do this for the rest of their lives when Viktor kissed him that way. 

Slowly, Viktor reclined backwards and Yuuri's hands went from his shoulders to the silken strands of Viktor’s silver hair, letting his fingers tangle in them and pillow the back of Viktor's head. Viktor pulled Yuuri forward until Yuuri was braced above him on his forearms, bearing down on him as he pressed kisses to his lips.

After a few moments, Viktor broke away and there was something deliciously dark in his blue eyes. 'Yuuri,' he murmured as Yuuri chased his mouth.

'Mhmmmm?' Yuuri hummed, kissing Viktors nose, his cheekbone, his jaw when it became clear that Viktor was using his lips for other purposes, like talking.

'It's just... the cave floor is not very comfortable.'

'Oh,' Yuuri replied without stopping. 'That could be a problem since I don't really want to move.'

Viktor looked up at him and all of the confidence Yuuri had possessed the moment before left him. He sat up and a sly smile graced Viktors lips. There was something intoxicating about that smile on Viktor that made Yuuri suddenly aware of exactly where he was sitting. Yuuri scrambled off him, face flushing a furious red and Viktor laughed.

'Come here,' he said, extending strong arms out to Yuuri, who took his hand and stood. As soon as Yuuri was close enough, Viktor plunged his hands into Yuuri's hair, tugging just hard enough on the ends where they brushed Yuuri's shoulders to send sparks down to his toes. He kissed Yuuri again, harder, coaxing Yuuri's mouth open, and suddenly Yuuri was breathless. He let out a shaky sigh into Viktor's mouth which only seemed to encourage him further. He walked Yuuri backwards until something hit the back of Yuuri's knees, forcing him to sit down on their pallet bed and then Viktor was in Yuuri's lap, intensely focused, his grounding weight the only thing stopping Yuuri's head from soaring all the way to the top of Mount Olympus itself.

'Viktor...' Yuuri said but for the life of him he couldn't think of an end to that sentence. Viktor didn't let him, anyway. 

Gently insistent, he pushed down on Yuuri's shoulders, following him down to the bed with hunger in his eyes, his back to the low fire in the pit at the center of the room. The light from the flames cast Viktor in silhouette, strands of hair sticking up where Yuuri’s fingers had been, lit gold by the firelight. He was beautiful like that; almost godly with his unusual silver hair and blue eyes glittering and his skin that never quite seemed to tan properly despite their outdoor living situation painted gold by fire and sunlight. Yet with his hair sticking up in places, his shadowed expression raw and his chest heaving, he was so undoubtedly mortal and alive that Yuuri's heart wasn't quite sure what to do with him. This was Viktor the way that Yuuri had imagined him in his dreams, but there was something about it that filled Yuuri's heart with melancholy for a moment. He remembered the way Viktor had hesitated and stalled when he told Yuuri of his divine blood, registered the way Viktors hands held Yuuri like he was waiting for Yuuri to push him away. This here, now, was how Viktor saw himself, Yuuri realised. Not divine enough to be a god, not mortal enough to be human.

Yuuri knew better.

Viktor gazed down at him with an intensity that made Yuuri blush, but he resisted the intense urge to pull away and hide his face, because that was what Viktor was afraid of and he needed Viktor to know that Yuuri would never leave him. Yuuri would follow wherever Viktor went, to Phthia, to Troy, to Olympus, to Hades- it didn't matter. Yuuri tugged on Viktor's tunic and Viktor pulled it over his head. Words weren't his strong suit but he could do this. He ran a hand over Viktor's chest, feeling the muscles pulled taut beneath his skin, articulating his thoughts with his fingers and tongue.

Viktor rolled over, taking Yuuri with him until their positions were reversed again. Yuuri knew what Viktor was doing; giving him an out if Yuuri decided he’d had enough, asking a question he was too afraid to voice out loud.

'I’m not going to leave' Yuuri whispered because the heave of Viktor's chest seemed to be begging for that reassurance. His lips kissed down Viktor’s jaw to his neck, his chest, the dips and planes of his abdomen. Viktor threw his head back and sighed, a rumble low in his chest that Yuuri could feel beneath his lips. Yuuri moved lower still and Viktors fingers tangled in his hair again, almost painful in the way he tugged on the strands. He pulled again, calling Yuuri's name softly and Yuuri followed Viktor's hand back up to his face.

'Did you really think I was... that I would leave if I knew the truth?' Something about voicing that question out loud hurt and Yuuri felt tears spring in his eyes because Viktor hadn't trusted him with this secret.

'I was afraid...' Viktor admitted and suddenly Yuuri was the one unable to quite manage eye contact. 'That you would fear me like the rest.'

'Fear... you?' Yuuri couldn't help himself, he laughed in surprise. 'Why would I fear you?'

Viktor frowned. 'You fear the gods.'

Yuuri shrugged. 'Gods are supposed to be feared.'

'But-'

'You're not a god, Viktor,' Yuuri insisted, running a hand down Viktors bare chest to hover over his heart hammering beneath his ribs.

Viktor smirked. 'You're right,' he said, one hand snaking down to the hem of Yuuri's tunic, pulling it over Yuuri's head and dropping it on the floor by the head of the bed. Yuuri blushed a deep red at the intensity of Viktors gaze. 'Gods don't do this.' He ran his hands over Yuuri's sides, teasing. Yuuri wanted to make some quip about how Viktor was proof gods definitely  _ did _ do this but Viktor reached lower and all thought flew from his head.

* * *

The call came three days later. The intervening time was spent as it always was, Viktor and Yuuri trailing after Yakov as they went about their routine, left alone for a few hours in the middle of the day and reunited with their eternally gruff tutor in the afternoon.

By unspoken agreement, Viktor discontinued Yuuri’s combat lessons. It was truthfully too cold to spend extended periods of time in their secluded spot by the river. He didn’t say, but Yuuri knew; he wanted a few days of peace before it all came crashing down. Yuuri couldn’t begrudge him that, especially when they found much more enjoyable ways to spend their free time.

Viktor had always been a handsy person. It wasn’t even that uncommon among the boys at court and it had never bothered Yuuri once it was just the two of them and Yakov on Mount Pelion. The events of Viktor's birthday however, appeared to have broken a dam. Viktor’s hands always seemed to be touching Yuuri somewhere. A hand on the shoulder when he spotted something wandering the woods ahead, fingers brushing against Yuuri’s forehead when his dark hair fell in his eyes, hands entwined as they walked back to the cave after a long day. Whether or not Yakov had noticed a change, he said nothing, and with such a tight time limit on their happiness, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to care.

They spent their evenings dancing and playing music, or falling into bed early just to kiss each other breathless, or else lying on their sides, faces barely an inch from touching, so they could talk late into the night.

The threat of war loomed over them, but it was far away, like a nightmare they had woken from. Unsettling, yes, but unable to touch them during waking hours.

It was an illusion of safety and peace, and it didn't last long before it was shattered.

Viktor, Yuuri and Yakov were making their way back to the cave for the afternoon when they heard it. The blow of a horn, trumpeting loud enough to wake the entire mountain. Viktor had his hand to his hunting knife in seconds, Yuuri mere moments behind, but Yakov put a large hand on their shoulders - even though Viktor was at least Yakov's height now -  and the boys relaxed out of their stances. A pair of horses, one riderless, the other’s rider decked out in Phthian colours and light armour, created a rise in the terrain.

'My father has come for me,' Viktor murmured. Yakov nodded, his eyes stormy. Viktors face shuttered before Yuuri's eyes, breaking into that blank aloof smile he had reserved for the other boys at the palace before they had left for Pelion years ago. Yuuri had almost forgotten that smile existed, he'd been treated to genuine ones for so long.

'Prince Viktor!' the rider called. He dismounted and approached, folding himself into a low bow. 'The king had ordered you to return immediately.'

This was it. Yuuri looked to Viktor, could almost see the thoughts flickering beneath his masked smile. Fight or flight. Obey his father's command or run. Viktor's blue eyes met Yuuri's for a moment and Yuuri was almost sure Viktor would refuse, grab Yuuri and Makkachin and flee. 

Instead, Viktor took a deep breath and said, 'Lead the way.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... According to most myths, I think that Achilles was just asked to lead an army to Troy because the other Greeks thought he was awesome and wanted him onside. Also, Michele in this myth is playing the part of both Tyndareus, the legendary king of Sparta, and Menelaus, the husband of Helen of Troy. In this fic, Michele will be recruiting those who made the oath to save Michele's sister.  
> Also- bonus points to any of you awesome nerds that figure out which of our YOI gang are playing the roles of which characters from the Illiad. Some of them will be pretty obvious (Chris should be pretty easy) if you know the mythology. There will be some of the gang on both sides (ie Trojans or Greekss/Archaeons), but there are too many players in the Illiad for them all to be replaced so characters such as Paris - Helen/Sara's kidnapper(???) - will be kept, just to make everything running smoothly.
> 
> PSA: I will be posting updates ie when to expect updates since I no longer have any sort of schedule for updating, and possibly some snippets/sneak peeks if I feel like it on my tumblr trebelandbass.tumblr.com under the tag #aafic


	9. Upon the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... still on semi-hiatus but it's been ages since I updated. To make up for it, I hope you guys enjoy an extra long chapter!
> 
> Also, I wrote and posted this chapter on my phone so there will be typos, sorry!

Viktor and Yuuri kicked their horses into a gallop as the wide expanse of the bay came into view through the trees, at the insistence of the nervous soldier who had come to get them. Viktor was astride Makkachin, never pulling ahead of Yuuri on his own palace horse. It felt like a calculated move. Viktor was made for speed, on foot or on horseback, and Makkachin was more than capable of keeping up if he wanted to. Viktor didn't want to arrive ahead of him.

Horns blared as they approached the palace and people Yuuri didn't recognise surged out of their way, clearing a path to the palace doors. A small group had gathered between the pillars out front. In the center stood the imposing figure of Viktor's father, and to his right, an incredibly tall woman.

She was larger than life with pale skin and ropes of long silver hair that hung loose around her face. She towered over every man in attendance, exuding tension and a fierce and righteous fury that Yuuri recognised as a cover for something far less honourable only because he had seen the same look in Viktor's eyes before; the day he was told to go to Pelion.

There was no one else it could be but Viktor’s mother, the sea goddess.

As if to confirm this, she stepped forward as Viktor dismounted and enfolded him in a calculated embrace. 

'My son,' she said, but her voice held little warmth. 'Welcome home.'

Viktor sent her a stern questioning look as he replied, 'Mother,' and stepped away. They stared at each other for a moment as something heavy seemed to settle over the little congregation and then Viktor turned to his father, his expression carefully politely impassive.

'Father.' Viktor bowed and Yuuri followed suit, bending stiffly at the waist. There was something about Viktor's mother that reminded him of a flighty horse and it was deeply unsettling to think of what could do that to a goddess - even a minor one such as her.

The king surveyed them both for a moment. No hint of his thoughts were betrayed in his face. 'Come inside,' he said finally. 'There is much to discuss.'

* * *

 

The dining hall of the palace was unchanged since Yuuri had last seen it. Torches burned in sconces against the dying light of evening, reflected against the polished marble floor. A long wooden table took up the center of the room and the king seated himself at the head facing the door. Viktor took the seat to his right. The goddess took the seat next to him, leaving Yuuri to hover awkwardly for a moment before taking the seat opposite Viktor. The goddess allowed herself the tiniest smirk.

Viktor turned to his father. 'What urgent business required interrupting my training with Yakov?' he asked and Yuuri would have choked on a gasp at the impertinence had it been anyone but him. As it was, he stared at Viktor’s left shoulder, watching the goddess out of the corner of his eye.

The king nodded to a servant. 'Summon our guest.'

The servant scurried off. More appeared, carrying trays laden with fruit and drink. A plate was set before Yuuri and filled with fresh bread and sweetmeats. Viktor's mother accepted nothing.

'I am afraid your training has come to an end out of necessity,' the king sighed. 'I have more urgent matters for you to attend to.'

The doors opened and in strode a tall blonde man around Yuuri's age with bright hazel-green eyes and a confident swagger. 'My dear Viktor,' he drawled, a smile gracing his perfect lips. 'It has been too long.'

'Christophe?' Viktor rose to his feet and greeted the man with a hug. 'What are you doing here?'

They separated and Christophe took the empty seat next to Yuuri. 'I am afraid I may have gotten you into trouble, my friend,' he sighed. Yuuri bristled at the familiarity between them but said nothing.

The king cleared his throat. 'Christophe is here on behalf of the king of Sparta.'

'The sister of king Michele has been taken to Troy,' Christophe explained. 'He is calling in old debts in order to get her back.'

'Old debts?' Viktor raised one silver brow, elegantly feigning innocence.

'He wants to wage war on Troy,' Christophe replied. 'He is ordering you to fulfill your oath.'

'And if I refuse?'

Yuuri's heart stumbled in his chest.

'Viktor-' the king snapped.

Viktor ignored him. ' _ And if I refuse?' _

Christophe sent him a warning look. 'Michele has allied with Mycenae through his other sister Isabella. Jean-Jacques has pledged his support. You do not want to make an enemy out of either of them.'

'JJ is a warmonger. He has had his eyes set on Troy for a long time.'

'With good reason!' the king retorted. 'Troy is ripe for conquest. If you return, you will make Phthia rich with spoils.'

'You would risk your heir for Trojan gold?' The goddess snapped, making everyone jump but the king.

'I did not raise a coward.'

Yuuri remembered Viktor’s desperation in the cave, the way he clung to Yuuri that night, like he was afraid Yuuri would disappear.

Viktor met his eyes across the table as if he was remembering the same thing. His cheeks coloured even as he stubbornly set his jaw.

'The fortress is impenetrable,' Viktor said. ' There is no way an army could scale it's walls and take the city.'

Christophe sighed. 'It would fall to the numbers we are gathering,' he said, not as a boast, but fact.

Viktor drowned. 'What sort of numbers? How many armies has Michele mustered?'

'One army. An Archaeon army u nited against Troy.'

'With JJ at the helm?' Viktor guessed. Christophe nodded.

'You will go,' the king ordered. ' You will bring glory to Phthia.'

Something in Viktors posture slumped but he held his head high. 'Yes, father.'

The king nodded. 'You leave in two days. I expect you to be ready by then.' He leaned back in his chair as a servant refilled his  _ kylix _ with wine.

'I will, father,' Viktor replied, barely a shade of the resignation Yuuri could see in his eyes coming through in his words. He yawned, just slightly too widely to be completely genuine, and stretched. 'If you do not mind, father, I wish to have an early night. It has been a very long day.'  He stood. 'I shall see you all tomorrow. Christophe, mother, goodnight. Yuuri, come.'

Yuuri scrambled to his feet under the intense glare Viktor's mother sent his way and joined Viktor by the door. 'Goodnight,' he murmured to the room and followed Viktor out.

The tension drained from Yuuri every step he took after the doors were shut behind them. 'Your mother scares me,' he whispered as they turned a corner.

Viktor laughed and took Yuuri's hand. 'She can be rather intimidating when she wants to be, yes.'

'She doesn't really look like you,' Yuuri mused after a moment, enjoying the feeling of Viktor's hand in his as they walked down familiar halls to Viktor’s chambers.

'How do you mean?'

Yuuri shrugged. 'I don't know really. I just hadn't realised how similar you looked to your father until the three of you were standing side by side. Apart from her colouring she looks nothing like you.'

Viktor cocked his head to one side. 'I suppose,' he agreed. 'I never really thought about it.'

'Vitya.'

Viktor and Yuuri both froze as the voice, raw and concussive as a thunderclap, reverberated through their very skulls.

Viktor spun to face his mother, dropping Yuuri's hand immediately.

'Mother,' he said, summoning a smile. 'I thought you were still at dinner.'

'I will speak with Toshiyatides,' she said and something heavy settled on Yuuri's chest. 

Yuuri didn't dare look to see Viktors reaction, just stepped forward. 'Yes, my lady?' he asked with a little bow, trying to keep the waver out of his voice.

'We shall speak tomorrow morning, Viktor,' the goddess rumbled and Viktor caught Yuuri’s eye. 

Yuuri nodded once at him.  _ It's alright. _ Out loud, he said, 'I will meet you back at our rooms when we are done here.'

Viktor sighed and inclined his head. 'Until tomorrow, then, mother. Goodnight,' and left Yuuri alone with the goddess. 

As soon as they were alone, she fixed him with a cold stare. 'His oath is irrelevant, you know. Rumours had spread about what he will become. Any army seeking victory will want him leading the charge.'

'I know,' Yuuri agreed. Even before he had met Viktor, he had heard the rumours about the demigod prince of Phthia. 

'It is his destiny, not his promises that they want. He will be a god one day. One way or another, I will see to it.'

'Have you asked him what he wants?' Yuuri asked, regretting it immediately when she glowered at him.

'If Viktor arrives at Troy, if he faces the hero of his enemies, he will never return.' That restless energy that Yuuri had noticed when he first saw her was almost overpowering now. He could feel his own heart pick up in unconscious response, his muscles tensed and ready for a fight.

_ I am looking forward to seeing it again. Even if it means... Even if it means I won’t come back. _

'I think he knows this,' Yuuri replied, fighting to keep his voice steady even though his heart threatened to break. 

_ He will never return _ ...

With a snarl, the goddess grabbed Yuuri's arm and tugged him close enough he had to crane his neck to look at her. 'Listen closely, boy. If anything happens to my son I will hold you personally responsible, do you hear? You will ensure he comes to no harm. From now on your purpose in life is to keep him alive or I will make certain you sorely regret ever being born.' Yuuri stared at the place where they touched. Her hand was freezing cold, her grip hard enough to leave ugly bruises on his wrist. 'Do you understand?' she hissed, sounding for all the world like waves crashing on the beach. 

Yuuri nodded.

'Speak!' she thundered.

'My... My purpose has been that for some time now, my lady. I will not break my oath.'

She released him with such force he staggered back a step. 'Do not forget it, Toshiyatedes,' she warned. 

Yuuri took that for a dismissal. 'You have my word.' He turned to leave, but stopped for long enough to say, 'And my name is Yuuri,' over his shoulder and then he was around the corner, just in time to hear her scream of frustration. As soon as she was out of sight, he ran.

* * *

 

Viktor was standing by the window when Yuuri joined him in the room they had shared when they were children. Everything was how they had left it, though no one had thought to put a second bed for Yuuri in the corner like they had before. Yuuri was glad of it. It meant no one would ask questions about them sharing.

'What did my mother want?' Viktor asked without turning.

'Nothing important,' Yuuri replied, coming to join him. He wrapped an arm around Viktor's waist and Viktor's arm draped itself over his shoulder and they stood like that, looking out at the moon reflected on the water. 

Beyond it, the silhouette of a great ship was anchored. Others surrounded it, torches illuminating the decks as soldiers moved to and fro, weaving between masts and crates like ants in the grass.

'My army,' Viktor whispered into the silence. 'All volunteers, hoping for a share of the glory.'

'All hoping to fight alongside you,' Yuuri countered.

Viktor chuckled. 'You think I'm a hero?'

Yuuri replied without hesitation. 'Yes.'

'I've never even fought in a battle before.'

'You don't have to.'

'But I will.' Viktor turned his gaze from the view where the lights of the palace, the stars and the moon glinted off the water of the bay. 'Yuuri...' He turned Yuuri gently to face him and kissed Yuuri's forehead, speaking softly into his hair. 'There is no one I trust more to fight by my side.'

Yuuri huffed and his lips quirked into a small smile. 'Why do you have to be so dramatic?' He leaned up to kiss Viktor on the lips. 'You're not a soldier tonight. Just enjoy the view.'

Viktor eyes Yuuri, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. ' _ Oh _ , I am.'

'You're terrible,' Yuuri turned around in Viktors arms to hide his furious blush. Viktor rested his chin on Yuuri's shoulder, squeezing both arms around Yuuri's middle. They stood like that, back to chest, and gazed out upon the water, enjoying the calm before the storm came rolling in, both ignoring the thunderclouds already on the horizon.

* * *

'Yuuuuuriiii...'

Yuuri awoke to Viktor nuzzling his neck. He groaned at the grey dawn light through the window. 'Silly me for thinking that our return to the palace meant we could sleep in for once.' He shut his eyes and pulled up the covers. 

'I have to go meet my mother,' Viktor whispered.

'So go,' Yuuri urged. 'Let me sleeeep...'

Viktor tried to tug the covers away from Yuuri's face, peppering every exposed inch of skin with kisses. 'Awwwww Yuuri! I thought you loved me!'

Yuuri made a face. 'I never said that.'

Viktor pouted and widened his eyes in a comical mockery of shock. 'Yuuri! I'm hurt! How could you say that to your Prince?'

Yuuri tried to roll over but Viktor was straddling his hips. 'I'll tell you once I've slept in.'

Viktor climbed off him and grabbed a _chiton_ from the floor. 'Fine. I'll see you when I get back.'

Yuuri hummed in agreement, settling back down into the bed, already asleep by the time Viktor closed the door behind him.

The next time Yuuri was dragged from slumber, his limbs were heavy with too many hours asleep. The sun was high and streaming into the room, noonday shadows littering the space. _His and Viktor’s_ space. 

The noise that had woken him sounded again. Someone knocked on the door. Cursing, Yuuri scrambled out of bed, pulling a tunic over his head as he went to answer.

'Yuuri!' Emil grinned when Yuuri pulled open the door. 'Were you still asleep? I'm looking for Viktor.'

Yuuri frowned. 'He’s not here.'

Emil shrugged. 'Well, then I'll look somewhere else.'

'Wait!' Yuuri called as Emil turned to leave. 'Why are you looking for Viktor?'

'The king is looking for him. He wants the Prince to oversee the preparations.'

Yuuri joined Emil in the corridor. 'I'll help you look.' __

* * *

 

They started in all the usual places. The music room, the gardens where the boys used to train before they became men, Viktors clearing, the stash of weapons still in the hollow trunk of a scarred tree. With each new Viktor-less place, something solidified uncomfortably in Yuuri's gut. He didn't want to call it dread. Not yet. 

By the time Yuuri thought to check the beach, he and Emil had been joined by Christophe, palace guards on horseback were checking the surrounding countryside and attendants were scouring the lesser used halls of the palace.

Because of the time of year and preparations for war taking precedence over leisure time, the beach had barely been used. The wind was cold this close to the water, biting at exposed skin like a warning to stay away. 

Shapes on the sand caught Yuuri's eye. They were faint, almost entirely blown away by the sea breeze. 'Over here!' Yuuri called. Emil and Christophe joined him and looked to where he pointed.

'Viktor meets his mother here every morning,' Yuuri told them as they made their way down the sloping sand dunes, following the set of footprints. 'They go swimming most days. It was where he went at dawn this morning.'

Christophe frowned. 'So the question is whether or not he came back.'

Yuuri's heart stopped in his chest. His eyes scoured the beach, looking for any sign that Viktor had walked out of the water again at some point before they had started looking for him. He clutched his hair in distress. 'You- you don't think... he... ? No, he couldn't! He's... he's  _ Viktor _ ! His mother-' Yuuri's throat closed over as panic clouded his reasoning. His chest  _ ached _ with it, crushed beneath the weight of his thoughts. Viktor couldn't be... there was no way. Not even when Tartarus itself froze over and the gods fell from the heavens would Viktor drown in the sea that had given him life. Not when his mother had been so intent on saving him just last night.

'Yuuri?' Christophe placed a hand on Yuuri's shoulder and he realised he was on his knees. 'Yuuri, darling, don't jump to conclusions before there is any proof.'

Yuuri took in deep breaths, fighting the spasms in his chest. He blinked away tears, refusing to let them fall. Not now. Not here. Not when Viktor might need him.

It was then that another thought occurred to him. 

Viktor hadn't wanted to go to war. From the moment he had known it was a possibility, there had been a tension in him that he couldn't seem to shake. Yuuri wouldn't call it fear. Not when Viktor and fear seemed like polar opposites, but there had been a deep sadness and reluctance in Viktor’s eyes on the ride back from Mount Pelion. Was it possible...?  _ Could _ Viktor have run away? Yuuri refused to voice the thought out loud. Viktor would never leave this way. Except wasn't this exactly what had happened when Viktor had taken Yuuri with him to be trained by Yakov? Hadn't he helped Yuuri slip away from the castle at dawn so they could leave together?

But that was it, wasn't it? Last time, they had left  _ together _ . Last time, Viktor had taken Yuuri with him. Just that morning Viktor had smiled at Yuuri, looked him in the eye and promised that he would return. Viktor had never broken a promise to Yuuri yet. Yuuri clung to that knowledge, held onto it even as it threatened to slip through his fingers like water, because even though there was no sign of struggle on the beach, even though there were no return footprints emerging from the sea and Viktor was nowhere to be found, Viktor had  _ promised _ . Yuuri had to believe him, this man he had pledged his life to when he was only twelve. 

In the past four years with Viktor, Yuuri had met kings and princes, gods and goddesses, but if he had to believe in one thing, he knew that he would believe in Viktor. Viktor, who was larger than life. Viktor, who wore his fate like a cloak over his shoulders to adorn or shrug off at will. Viktor, who laughed at gods and looked at Yuuri like he was the reason the sun shone. Viktor, who had proven time and time again that for the first time in Yuuri's life he was wanted enough to  _ fight for _ . This Viktor would never leave Yuuri behind and so Yuuri would not do him the disservice of doubting him now.

'Spread out,' Yuuri said, voice hard with decision. 'Look for any sign that Viktor made it back to dry land.'

Christophe removed the hand Yuuri had forgotten was still on his shoulder. He nodded gravely. Even Emil had become somber in the minutes of silence that had passed as they each considered the possibilities of what had happened to Viktor. Without a word, they dispersed, leaving Yuuri in his knees in the sand, issuing orders to palace guards in curt voices. 

Once he was alone, Yuuri got to his feet and walked down the beach towards the waves. Sand gathered between his bare toes, which were almost completely numb with cold, but Yuuri didn't care. There was an anger building within him as his mind whirred. If Viktor didn't leave of his own accord then he was taken by someone - and Yuuri knew exactly who to ask first.

Yuuri didn't stop when he hit the water, wading up to his knees in the freezing brine. There he stopped and waited for a moment, ignoring the pounding of his heart that screamed  _ danger!  _ with every beat of his pulse.

The sea felt alive somehow, like it was watching him. Even the way the water eddied and swirled around his legs felt cautious and frenetic with energy, this contradiction Yuuri had always seen in Viktor's eyes. The same look he had spotted in the eyes of the sea goddess.

'Where is he?' Yuuri called to the waves, summoning every ounce of bravado he had ever seen Viktor wear in the face of this kind of power. 'I know you know!'

He was met with silence, broken only by the far-off shouts of men and seabirds, and the whisper of the waves crashing to the shore. Grief threatened to swell in his chest but he clamped it down ruthlessly. ' _ Tell me where he is!'  _ Determination mixed with desperation and his voice cracked.

'Who are you to make demands of the gods?' Here, in this place where the sea overwhelmed every other sight, smell and sound, her voice was barely distinguishable from the swirl of water and the cry of gulls overhead, but it still held that power gods took for granted, and chilled him far more effectively than the winter seas ever could.

Yuuri spin around, brown eyes blazing as he looked into the face of Viktor's mother. Her expression was serene as the ocean in the eye of a storm, but her eyes were glacial, chips of ice devoid of humour or empathy. 'Do you know where he is?'

'He is safe,' her tone was casual, dismissive, but beneath it all he heard the  rumble of a thunderstorm colour her words. Her silver hair whipped back from her face in a fierce wind that didn't match the breeze Yuuri could feel against his face, the only part of him that wasn't numb with cold.

'Safe from what?'

'Safe from you! Safe from his father and any man who would hurt him! Safe from war and destiny! He cannot go to Troy!'

'You have no right to take him from us!' Yuuri gasped. Anger blazed forth against the goddess’s bone-deep chill.

'I have  _ every right! _ He is  _ mine!'  _ t he goddess matched his anger like a tidal wave. It crashed over him with enough force to cause him to stagger. Fear gripped him tight. She was between him and the shore, one false move and she would surely drown him. He gaped, struggling to think. 

'Let him go!' Yuuri's mind was sluggish with cold and fear, but he held his ground. She was a minor goddess. This war, and the promises that caused it, were bigger than her. She had to know that. 'Please,' he begged. Tears pricked his eyes and this time, he let them fall. 'You cannot keep him forever. This is bigger than any of us. You made me promise to keep him safe. I gave you my word.'

'Your word means nothing. You are mortal. You are a _boy_.'

'I made an oath to stay by his side many years ago,' Yuuri replied. Waves crashed against his back. 'You aren't the only one who loves him.'

'Every mortal who knows of him loves him.'

Yuuri shook his head, sending saltwater flying. 'Not like I do. They love his name, his heritage, the rumours and the destiny.'

'And you don't?'

'I love his laugh, the way he plays the lyre, I love his hair and his eyes and his mischief. I love him for his mistakes and his moments of pride. I love him because he is my best friend.'

Yuuri let emotion fill his words with meaning, bagged silently for the goddess to see the truth of them. He kept speaking until he saw the ice soften in her eyes, until the first hint of fear began to shine through and he let her see his too.  _ This is someone who knows what it would mean to lose him, _ his eyes told her.  _ This is someone who needs to keep him alive as much as you do. _

'We're on the same side,' Yuuri whispered the words like a prayer. 'Please, tell me where he is.'

 

When Christophe found him, standing on the shore, soaked and shivering, Yuuri smiled. 

'I know where he is.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things actually happened! Yuuri met Viktor's mother and plot happened! Please tell me what you think of that because I wasn't so sure how that worked out. You can message me or leave me asks on my tumblr (trebelandbass.tumblr.com) or in the comment section below!
> 
> I have no idea when I will be able to update next, but I make announcements and would be happy to do sneak peaks/previews/headcanons etc if there's any interest.


	10. Ships set sail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this chapter even make sense? Who knows but here it is anyway.
> 
> Still no actual posting schedule for this because life.

Viktor awoke in a strange bed. 

Even before he opened his eyes a sense of dread filled him at the unfamiliar feel of the mattress beneath him and the conspicuous absence of Yuuri's warm body by his side. A hand brushed his arm and he went rigid, snatching the offending wrist with his free hand at lightning speed.

‘Oh!’ a high voice, airy and decidedly feminine, giggled. Viktor opened his eyes and was met with wide brown ones on a softly tanned face. The woman put a finger to her lips. ‘Don't worry, Prince,’ she whispered. ‘I'm going to look after you, but keep your voice down. We don't want to give you away.’

‘Where am I?’ Viktor demanded. ‘Who are you?’

‘Shhhh!’ the woman, a girl really, now that he looked at her properly, hissed, lips quirking in a quietly excited smile. ‘I am Yuuko, ward of the king, and these are my ladies. Welcome to Hasetsu.’

* * *

The courtyard was bustling with activity, soldiers were preparing armour for travel, stocking up swords and spears, and checking supplies for the long journey ahead. After the relative quiet of Mount Pelion, the noise was unbelievable. Armour rustled as soldiers moved from stations set up at each end. Orders were bellowed and respectfully received. Swords clattered against each other as they were piled in crates. Someone started yelling when someone else overturned a crate stuffed with sacks of grain. Through the chaos, Yuuri kept an eye out for the imposing figure of the king.

He found him standing back from the crowd on the veranda that encircled the courtyard on the sides that connected with the main building, observing the proceedings with an impassive face and shining dark eyes that were alive with something unpleasant enough to make Yuuri squirm.

‘Your Majesty!’ Christophe called before Yuuri had the chance. Emil and his soldiers had disappeared to prepare the ships for early launch, leaving Yuuri and Christophe to relay their new information to the king. ‘Sir, we have a problem. We have located Viktor. He was taken by his mother the sea goddess to an isla-’

‘WHAT?’ the king thundered, loud enough to silence the courtyard.

‘M-my king,’ Yuuri stepped forward and knelt, as would be expected of someone of his station. ‘Prince Viktor has been taken to the island of Hasetsu, by his mother. With your permission, I would do my duty as the prince's companion and take a ship and some soldiers to rescue him.’

The king cursed profusely. ‘What does she want him in Hasetsu for?’

‘I would guess, it would be to keep him safe from the war we are to wage on Troy, your majesty,’ Christophe replied.

The king looked between them and nodded. ‘The two of you will take a ship at once to Hasetsu and find my son. Tomorrow, once the army is ready, they will set out to join you. From there, you will join the rest of the Archaion armies without delay.’

‘Understood, your majesty,’ Chris said and left. 

Against his better judgement, Yuuri lingered. ‘The sea goddess seems to think if Viktor reaches Troy, he will die there.’

‘Such is the cost of war.’

‘If she is right, you will never see your son again.’

‘Then I shall be thankful that I was blessed with two sons, not one,’ the king replied without inflection. ‘Yura will one day be even more powerful than Viktor, I have foreseen it.’

‘Is that all you care about?’ Yuuri whispered, his heart breaking for Viktor a little at his father's callous, yet honest words. ‘Do you care nothing for your son?’

‘How can you lay judgement on me when your own father sent you to exile in disgrace?’ the king snapped. Then, he began to laugh. ‘How can you hope to rescue my son if your own father’s actions prevent you from setting foot on Hasetsu’s shores?’

‘I will find a way,’ Yuuri promised. ‘I will find him.’

The king did not reply, his attention diverted elsewhere. He dismissed Yuuri with a casual wave of his hand. 

The king was right, though, Yuuri sighed through the slight pain that had settled between his ribs since he found out where Viktor was. Exile was for life. If Yuuri was caught returning to his homeland, he would be killed. 

The only solution, then, was to not get caught.

* * *

 

’Hasetsu?’ Viktor repeated. ‘ _ Yuuri's  _ Hasetsu?’

‘Of course!’ Yuuko squealed. ‘You're the crown Prince of Phthia!’ she slapped her hands over her mouth. Quieter, she whispered, ‘You know Yuuri Toshiyatedes?’

‘I do,’ Viktor replied evenly, but a small smile tugged at his face at the name. ‘But he is just Yuuri now. Exile removed his claim as the son of Toshiya.’

Yuuko nodded. ‘Oh of course. I'm sorry. Is he a soldier in your army? I thought perhaps that is what had become of him.’

‘Actually, he is my  _ therapon _ . And my best friend.’

Yuuko gasped, eyes shining. ‘I never imagined... _Oh_ , how is he? Tell me everything!’

Viktor smiled. Any excuse to talk about his favourite subject. He regaled Yuuko with tales of his and Yuuri's adventures as his eyes scanned the room. It was large and wood panelled, the architecture so unlike that of his own palace; dark wood and straight lines where white marble columns should be. Screens segmented the place and behind them he heard the curious whispers of more female voices. He was in the women's quarters, he realised, an a blush crept into his cheeks. A loom sat in one corner, unused at that moment, but the wood was well worn and a great swathe of cloth was sitting half-made within the machine.

Unlike the tidy palace back in Phthia, this space looked lived in. Ornately painted  _ amphorae  _ and _ lekythoi  _ decorated tables, some filled with lovely smelling purfumes,  and chests gilt with bronze and gold filled corners, some left open to reveal flutes and lyres. Fabrics and adorned the walls and furniture and the wide windows boasted views of the eternal clash between the ocean and high cliffs.

There was only one door. He was trapped.

Of course, he could fight his way out if he wanted to, but something about hurting these women who were effectively guarding him made him hesitate. Hurting and killing soldiers if he was forced to was one thing. Civilians were a different story altogether and he didn't like the idea of being violent just so he could commit more acts of violence on the shores of Troy.

That terrible, selfish part of him that loathed his destiny was glad. If he stayed here, he wouldn't have to fight. He could content himself with living in Yuuri's childhood home, away from his responsibilities and expectations and heroics.

But living here would mean nothing if Yuuri wasn't with him. Yes, the Fates had decided that he would die if he went to war with Troy, but living for a short time with Yuuri was better than living forever without him.

Yuuri. Viktor wondered where he was, if he was worried for him, if he had figured out where he was yet. He wondered what Yuuri had said to his mother to make her so angry, as she had been that dawn when Viktor had met her and she had overwhelmed him and whisked him away. He wondered if Yuuri would feel as conflicted about the situation as Viktor did, but soon tossed the thought away. Yuuri was not like Viktor. He was strong and wise and kind and loyal. Yuuri, who would never leave Viktor behind, Yuuri, who would always do whatever it took to see them together again, safe and happy.

As he conversed with Yuuko, he felt a spring of hope. Yuuri would find him. Viktor had absolute unwavering faith in the younger man. Yuuri would find out where Viktor was and come for him. 

All he needed to do was wait.

* * *

 

Something knotted Yuuri's insides together as he stood at the stern of the great _trireme_ the king had commissioned for their journey to Hasetsu. He didn't know how to feel about returning home. He had missed his family, his mother and sister who ran the household with efficiency and kindness, his father who’d had no choice but to send him away. The punishment for returning from exile uninvited was severe, and Yuuri knew that whatever happened, there would be no welcome for him to his father's halls. Even after nearly five years, it hurt to think of being so close to home, yet unable to stay. 

While on Mount Pelion, Yuuri had learned to think of Viktor as home. Viktor’s arms around him while they slept was Yuuri's safe place. The fire pit in their diamond cave was his hearth, the forest on the slopes of the mountain was his kingdom. But, like Viktor, nowhere would feel like home properly without the smell of salt in the air or sand beneath his feet or the sound of gulls fishing and the dull rhythmic roar of the waves in his ears. His home had been running through fields of seagrass and sand, trees beaten into bent shapes by the weather and fishing in rock pools as soon as he could walk. 

It made sense, really, if he thought about it, that Yuuri had pledged himself to a son of the sea.

Viktor always smelled vaguely of salt and sand. His eyes changed with the weather, cyan as the summer sky or the slate blue-grey of a storm cloud and anything in between. He had days where he couldn't stay still, constant movement and energy propelling him through the day, and says where he was still and contemplative, tranquil as a halcyon sea.

It had only been a day since Yuuri had seen him, but  _ gods  _ did he miss him.

Christophe joined him on deck. They stood side-by-side for a moment, each wondering what to say to the other.

‘You care for Viktor a lot,’ Christophe said, finally breaking the silence as Yuuri fidgeted with his hands on the rail of the ship.

‘I swore an oath, just like he did,’ Yuuri replied, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. It didn't even begin to encapsulate the truth, but there was something about the nature of Yuuri's relationship with Viktor - the newness of it, the excitement of exploring the full extent of what they could be to each other, the contentedness Yuuri could find nowhere else but with Viktor - that Yuuri didn't want to share with anyone else yet. It had just been the two of them and Yakov for so long and they had barely returned for a day before they had been wrenched apart. He didn't trust the world enough to speak his feelings out loud, even if he had the words to do them justice.

The ship rocked gently as it cut through the wine-dark water and Yuuri watched the gentle caress of the waves along the wooden hull absently.

‘I've heard of you, Toshiyatedes,’ Chris murmured, low and sultry. ‘Exiled from Hasetsu by your father the king, for the murder of a nobleman's son.’ Yuuri clenched his fists but said nothing. ‘By rights, you should not be on this ship, bound for the one place you are forbidden to return to. Of all of us, you have the most to lose by coming along.’

‘I also have the most to gain,’ Yuuri replied.

‘You would risk your life for him?’

‘Soldiers risk their lives for their kings every day.’

Yuuri could feel Christophe’s hazel green gaze settle on him properly, but didn't look up. ‘Viktor is not a king yet.’

‘Like that matters.’

‘ _ Touché _ .’

After another moment of silence, Yuuri sighed. ‘What do you want, Christophe?’

‘I want to stop you from getting arrested as soon as we reach Hasetsu.’

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. ‘And how would you do that?’

Christophe smirked. ‘Oh,’ he replied airily with a wave of his fingers. ‘I may have an idea.’

* * *

After his third day inside, Viktor was itching to get out, to feel the wind on his face and the sun on his shoulders, even this deep into winter. The cold was paltry in comparison to this closed-in air, years of living on a weatherbeaten mountain had tempered his tolerance for extreme temperatures and he had never felt cold in the sea anyway. It was a gift from his mother, just as this imprisonment was her punishment for not listening to her.

‘You are not comfortable here, Prince?’ Yuuko asked, sometime in the midmorning. The ladies of Hasetsu Court had their own annex of the palace. Their own dining room and complex of chambers. So far, not one of them had gone outside. It was stifling.

‘I just want to go outside,’ Viktor complained, putting as much petulance as he could into his words. Better they think him the spoiled prince. If he was careful, a trip outside would mean freedom, if only he could get a message to Yuuri to tell him where he was.

Yuuko frowned in thought, then she smiled. ‘I think we can arrange that.’

Yuuko’s idea of arranging an outing was, apparently, to do laundry. She and her ladies moved about their chambers, plucking fine fabrics from the floor and chests, gathering  _ chitons _ and shawls from seemingly nowhere and stuffing them in chests for transport. 

Yuuko disappeared and eventually returned with a smile on her face as she donned her veil. ‘Come here,’ she beckoned to Viktor. ‘You are to be disguised as one of my ladies, so we must make you look the part. She pulled his long silver hair from it’s leather restraint and began working her fingers through it, braiding it in the complicated style most of the women wore. When she was done, one of her friends produced a plain spare dress from one of the chests and giggled.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. ‘What if I refuse to go along with your plan?’

Yuuko shrugged. ‘You mother said that you were allowed outside, but only if you complied with her request that your presence here remained unknown.’

Viktor huffed. ‘Is this really necessary?’

‘She says it is.’

Viktor snatched the dress from her hands instead of arguing further, disappearing behind a screen at her insistence to change and returning for inspection. Yuuko frowned at his flash of pale ankles but shrugged as if deciding it didn’t matter too much and presented him with a gauzy veil to pin to his hair. 

Finally, she stepped back. ‘There,’ she declared with a grin. ‘Now you look just like us.’

Viktor refused to be cowed by her gaze, instead lifting his chin and looking down at her with a sardonic smile that she was unable to see. ‘Can we go now?’

Viktor had always considered Phthia to be beautiful, all rolling hills and golden beaches, but Hasetsu, he discovered, was a different kind of beauty. Beaches of sea-worn stones and reefs full of weird and wonderful creatures could be seen from the trail Yuuko took them through down towards the river. The trees were sparse this time of year, and the mountain in the distance was capped with snow. Indeed, the air was crisp and not a little cruel, but the sun was out and the freshness of the air was like breathing life back into his lungs. 

The surrounding landscape was rocky, but Viktor’s feet were light from years of practice navigating uneven terrain and he found the walk enjoyable. Something kept nudging the back of his mind though. 

Yuuri grew up here. Yuuri ran through these hills, played in these trees, killed in these fields. He was raised in the wood-panelled halls of the palace, learned to swim in the waves of that beach, found friends and enemies among these people. There was something of Yuuri in the way Yuuko and her ladies walked, back straight and eyes forward, pace steady, that surprised Viktor. Proof that though Yuuri had been forbidden to return, he had taken something of Hasetsu with him even as he left behind his father's name. Where Viktor meandered, Yuuri was always a pace behind with even strides. Viktor had always thought it a character quirk; a manifestation of Yuuri's often serious nature, but now he wondered if it was a leftover habit of courtly conditioning. Viktor spent his childhood left to his own devices and had always assumed Yuuri had spent his the same. Now he had spent time with Yuuri’s people, he was not so sure. The thought gave him a strange sense of hope; if Yuuri retained so much of his past life then perhaps his new life with Viktor would become a permanent fixture too. It was silly, Viktor thought, but even after spending every day for your years with Yuuri, there were still surprises to be had, new discoveries to make. 

As long as Viktor found a way off this island, that is.

They stopped at a clear river at the base of the mountain, near where it joined the sea. Just because he was a Crown Prince, did not get Viktor out of helping the girls with the laundry but Viktor didn't mind. It was good to have something to do with his hands, to do something to expend his unused energy since escaping wasn't an option at that moment and sparring wasn't either. While they worked, Yuuko and her girls chatted happily among themselves. Viktor didn't pay much attention to them. Once he had done his part and the girls had joined their dresses laid out on the grass, Viktor found a spot and sat, looking out at the sea. The waves were a pale blue-gray and capped with white. In the distance, slate gray stormclouds were gathering. He could feel the charges magic of them in the air, could smell them on the wind. They weren't at the beach yet, but they were close, and Viktor could practically feel his blood sing in response to the proximity. 

Yuuko came and sat down beside him. “This was Yuuri's favourite spot when were were kids,” she said. “We weren't allowed in the sea back then because it was too dangerous. But he used to sit here and watch it. In the summer, this view is framed with green leaves and the sun sparkles off the sea so much it looks like it's encrusted in diamonds. He was entranced by it. Could sit here for hours by himself just watching.”

Viktor smiled, remembering his and Yuuri's own diamond crusted home on Mount Pelion. “How beautiful,” he said. Yuuko just hummed in agreement.  They were facing west, Viktor realised. Yuuri would be out there somewhere, beyond the horizon.

Suddenly, Yuuko pointed at something in the distance. “What's that?”

Viktor squinted and carefully swallowed his gasp of surprise. “I don't know,” he lied. “But let's get back inside. I think the weather is about to cave in.”

As they headed back towards the palace, Viktor stole a glance back at the sea and allowed himself a small, private smile.

A ship was on the horizon, barely visible, but there. 

Perhaps he wouldn't have to wait so long for rescue after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story so far! I get super excited by every bookmark, comment and kudos so thank you to those of you who are doing that! I don't know when the next chapter will be up but I am still working on it don't worry! Hope to see you all next update!
> 
> May xx
> 
> P.S: So I realised I have been using Ancient Greek terms without giving any sort of definition to accompany them so here you go:
> 
> (Disclaimer: these definitions may not be entirely accurate but you should get the general gist of it anyway)
> 
> Kopis - a short single-handed Greek sword with a one-sided curved blade. Used for close-combat by Ancient Greek soldiers.
> 
> Kylix - a shallow flat-bottomed wine cup
> 
> Amphorae (sing. amphora) - probably what you think of when you think "greek vase". A large potted container used for storage.
> 
> Lekythoi - another type of Greek vase. Much smaller and used specifically to contain purfumes and oils etc.
> 
> Trireme - a Greek warship


	11. Son of your father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually finished this days ago but I didn't really like it and decided to give it a few days so I could look at it with fresh eyes so here you go!

‘We're coming for you Vichan,’ Yuuri murmured. He rolled the honorific off his tongue, testing it out, tasting it. It was a common practice in Hasetsu, but nobody used them in Phthia. Yuuri had never used one for Viktor before. There was something satisfying about saying Viktor’s proper name,  _ Vik-tor,  _ the way the syllables rolled off the tongue, but there was something different and almost cozy about using the honorific.  _ Vi-chan _ wasn't a prince.  _ Vichan  _ was just a boy Yuuri loved, who goofed off sometimes and danced around a room and smiled at Yuuri like his very heart was singing whenever he was near.

_ Viktor _ was missing.  _ Viktor _ was a hero.

After days at sea, the unchanging waves had started to drive Yuuri mad. He had found solace in the stables, among the horses of the soldiers. It reminded him of those days off riding Makkachin when he needed to just think and feel without fear of being observed- even by Viktor. Over the past few days the feeling had come back with a vengeance. Surrounded by people he barely knew, the need to escape was stifling in the cramped space occupied by soldiers, all wanting to talk to the crown prince’s  _ therapon _ , the one man who was said to hold all of Viktor’s secrets.

Yuuri had needed to talk to Viktor, to say the things he couldn't say to anyone else. ‘I'm scared, Vichan,’ he murmured into the mane of a white horse he had found in the modified cargo hold belowdecks. It wasn't who he really wanted to see, but the horse had eyes devoid of judgement, and that was more than could be said for the humans on board. ‘I'm scared of fighting. I know I said I wasn't, but I am and I'm scared of what fighting will do to me. I can't... I can’t bear the thought of anyone else's life ending at my hand. It makes me sick. But... I have no choice, do I?’ he looked up at the horse’s brown eye, blinking at him slowly through long dark lashes. The beast huffed and shifted his weight lightly on his bed of hay. 

He heard Viktor's voice.  _ What happened to Takeshi wasn't your fault, Yuuri. _

Yuuri nodded. ‘I... I know that but it doesn't make me feel any better. It doesn't fix it. It doesn't bring him back or reverse my exile or change the fact that it happened. Takeshi is dead and I am alive and ever since then I've felt like I have to make that count for something.’ Yuuri wound his fingers through the horse’s silky silver mane and took a deep breath. ‘I thought maybe that by training with you, fighting alongside you, I might be able to do that one day but now it's actually happening - we're going to war and all I can think about is you. Is running away with you, of taking you far away because if you go to Troy you will die and I would slay a thousand men before I let that happen. But that doesn't mean it won't. I can't go against the gods. I can't. I'm not you, Viktor. I'm not brave and strong like you are. I can't save you and it hurts.’

The horse nudged his shoulder. Yuuri let out a startled chuckle and rubbed the beast's nose fondly.

‘You don't mind me talking to you, do you?’ he asked it. The horse tossed its great head and started nibbling on the shoulder of Yuuri's tunic. ‘Oh good,’ he laughed. ‘I wouldn't want to bother you.’

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts and Chris poked his head around the stall door. ‘Yuuri! We're approaching Hasetsu now. You need to be ready.’

The ship listed sideways and Yuuri stumbled before both ship and occupant righted themselves again. Yuuri nodded, heart in his throat. ‘I'll be there in a moment,’ he promised.

‘Good. Also, the weather’s caved in so be careful on deck. It's slippery. My guards are meeting in five minutes,’ Chris warned.

‘I'm coming!’ Yuuri insisted, patting the horse goodbye and following Chris out.

* * *

There was nothing that could prepare Viktor for meeting Yuuri's father. Since he had met Yuuri, he’d had an image of the man who'd exiled Yuuri in his head. A burly, intimidating man with a permanent scowl and perhaps a flash of cruelty in his eyes. Uncaring, selfish... Actually, his image of Yuuri's father looked a lot like the King of Phthia.

The king of Hasetsu was... well, not what he was expecting.

Viktor heard his voice as Yuuko lead him past the main hall and almost did a double take at the sound, another man speaking with the same lilt to his tone, the same stress on the vowels as Yuuri. He snuck a peek into the throne room, ignoring Yuuko's frantic hissing.

Toshiya was a short portly man with laughter lining his eyes and a soft hearted smile on his face that reminded Viktor so much of Yuuri that it was physically painful. Toshiya didn't look so much like his son as he acted like him, walked like him, talked like him. He held himself with the quiet confidence of a true king, without the demonstrations of power Viktor had grown so used to in his own home. He talked to the messenger kneeling at his feet without disdain or contempt, kind brown eyes unwaveringly intent on the subject of their gaze.

Viktor was so distracted by the sight of Yuuri's father that it took him a moment to realize the messenger was wearing Ithacan colours.

Christophe’s colours.

Viktor surged forward, but Yuuko caught him before he could get more than a step. The movement caught Toshiya's attention and he apologised to the messenger before turning to look at them.

‘Yuuko-san!’ he beckoned her forward. ‘We are hosting guests tonight. Perhaps you and your ladies might organise some entertainment for us?’

‘Of course, Toshiya-sama,’ Yuuko bowed low, elbowing Viktor until he did the same. ‘It would be our pleasure.’

* * *

Yuuri couldn’t breathe under his armour. It weighed down his chest and his helmet made everything echo just slightly off what he was used to. As he marched towards Hasetsu palace as just another helmeted face among Christophe’s retinue, it was all he could do to keep upright and moving. 

Christophe, for his part, swaggered towards the front doors. The messenger he had sent ahead had joined them halfway down the path from the beach where they had landed and hadn’t stopped talking to Chris in a low voice. Yuuri wasn’t sure what Chris hoped to achieve by this rather grand entrance, but he seemed to have a flair for the dramatic, so Yuuri couldn’t be sure what was a calculated move and what was just the Ithacan prince showing off.

The doors to the palace opened as they approached and Yuuri forwent breathing altogether. 

He was home at last.

He was terrified.

Half convinced he was shaking enough to rattle his armour and give himself away, Yuuri passed through the doors to his childhood home and prayed to whichever god was listening that he wouldn’t be shot on sight.

‘Not all my guests send messengers ahead, Christophe, Prince of Ithaca,’ said an infinitely familiar voice. Yuuri’s vision blurred and he furiously choked back tears. ‘What am I to think then about your visit to Hasetsu?’

Christophe inclined his head slightly to the figure sitting at the head of a table being set before their eyes. Yuuri bowed the lowest of Christophe’s guards. He watched a bead of sweat gather on his nose and stood up quickly before it could get the chance to fall. Christophe moved towards Toshiya, dispersing his guards with a wave of his hand. ‘My gracious host,’ he said. ‘I do hope you forgive my protection. I am a man at war, you see, and cannot be too careful.’

‘Of course,’ Toshiya replied, his smile polite, but genuine enough. 

There was more grey in his hair than Yuuri remembered, it made him look older than Yuuri knew him to be, more fragile somehow - or was that the creases around his eyes? The frown lines on his brow? The frailness of his hands. After so long used to the overbearing might of Viktor’s father, Toshiya’s demure nature startled him enough to make him sick.

‘Please,’ Toshiya said. ‘Tell me of your adventures, Christophe, while we eat.’

Chris plucked a fig from a bowl and took a bite, leaning back in his seat amiably, eyes fixed on Toshiya. Once he swallowed, he immediately leapt into a grand tale of a hunting trip he had been on recently.

Yuuri stood with his back against the wall, using his spear as a crutch to keep him upright. Memories flooded through him at lightning speed, overwhelming in their volume. Everything was tinged grey with the weight of the past bearing down on him, reminders of all his failures coming to life before his eyes, more with every beat of his too-fast heart. 

_ Ba-dump. He tripped over feet too big for his body on his way to stand by his father’s side. Noblemen in attendance snickered as he scrambled to the dias.  _

_ Ba-dump. A delegation of soldiers had arrived to report a ship just offshore, bearing the colours of Hasetsu’s enemies. Toshiya turned to Yuuri like a tutor to his student, asking calmly for the opinion of a future king only to be met by frightened brown eyes and silently gaping mouth. _

_ Ba-dump. Yuuri is hiding behind a pillar, listening as men belittled them from the safety of their noble status. _

_ Ba-dump. He was kneeling before his Toshiya on his throne, too shocked and afraid even to cry, as he listened to his father argue with Takeshi’s father about Yuuri’s punishment. _

_ 'A life for a life,' the bereaved nobleman insisted. _

_ 'Exile would be fairer,' his father argued.  _

_ 'Father, please! '  _ _ Yuuri had begged. It was the last time he was permitted to call himself Toshiyatedes. Toshiya’s son. _

_ There had been such sadness in his eyes when he had looked down at Yuuri and announced his decision. _

_ Ba-dump. Viktor’s eyes the first night he had woken Yuuri from a nightmare had been so sad, too. _

_ Are we both destined to carry the weight of our fathers? _

_ Viktor. _

Yuuri heaved a deep breath and shook his head minutely against the onslaught of thoughts.

A breakdown here would mean death. Yuuri refused to die in this hall. He refused to let Viktor down like that, not when Viktor needed him. He  _ refused _ . 

_ Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. _

Yuuri closed his eyes and imagined he was back on Mount Pelion. He could hear the birds chirping all around him, the wind rustling in the trees, and...  _ there _ , Viktor playing the lyre, one of Yuuri’s favourite songs. Viktor’s fingers on the strings drowned out everything else until he could no longer hear the bustle of Hasetsu court, nor his father or Christophe’s voices. It was just Yuuri and Viktor and the music. 

Yuuri’s breathing evened. The panic receeded. His mind came back into focus. Viktor’s song faded and the world came crashing back in, but this time Yuuri wore a determined expression beneath his helmet. 

He was going to find Viktor. He was going to find him and they would both make it out of here alive. Yuuri had a promise to keep. 

Christophe met Yuuri’s eyes over the table and gave an imperceptible nod. ‘Your majesty,’ he said, leaning in with a sense of conspiracy. ‘What do you make of Troy?’ he leaned back and raised an eyebrow. 

Toshiya didn’t answer immediately, just lowered a measured stare on Christophe for a moment. ‘I think it is a powerful city. Well defended.’

Chris chuckled. ‘Oh, very well defended indeed,’ he agreed, polishing off his plate. ‘But inside those walls-’

‘Those  _ very high _ walls,’ Toshiya cut in. 

‘Indeed, beneath those very high walls lie riches beyond imagining.’

‘And here I thought the noble cause was to rescue Sara. Mustering a united archaion army through the power of a brother’s love? That’s a story that will be told for generations to come.’ There was a hint of amusement on Toshiya’s face. He thought Christophe had come on the bequest of Michele and JJ, to rally Hasetsu to their cause. Yuuri knew it would never work. Hasetsu was a peaceful little island. They had enough of a fleet to defend their shores, but no real power on land. They would be useless in taking a city. Besides, Toshiya was a man of simple means and simple values. The promise of riches and glory would not persuade him.

‘Exactly.’ Christophe pointed at Yuuri and another soldier, ordering them to leave with the flick of a finger. Yuuri bowed as he left, matching the other soldier stride-for-stride out of the dining hall. ‘Don’t you want in on the biggest venture anyone has ever seen?’

Once the doors had closed behind them, they split up. The soldier headed towards the beach, back to the ship, and Yuuri turned to follow the palace wall to the right, Christophe’s voice echoing in his head.

_ 'Do you still know your way around the palace?' _

_ 'Of course I do.' _

_ 'Is there another way in?' _

_ 'The servants have their own entrances around the back. I know where they are.' _

_ 'Good. When I send one of my retinue away to fetch our gift, go with them. Circle around the back and get in through the servant’s entrance. If they’re going to be keeping Viktor anywhere, it will be in there.' _

Yuuri just hoped Chris was right.

His feet were light as he crept further from the main entrance and around to the private end of the palace. Through the windows he could glimpse different parts of the house; various rooms in the women’s quarters, what had once been his own chamber, now gathering dust, the rarely-used music room, the courtyard which held the hot springs that served as baths for the men of Hasetsu court.

Then, finally, the kitchens. There was a little road coming up from a different part of the beach where goods came in from the trading ships in the harbour to stock the court’s kitchens and the market over the other side of the hill. It was frequented by merchants during the day, but at night it lay deserted, empty as travellers feared what might leap out at them in the dark. It was sunset, which meant that those servants who did not live in the palace would be heading home soon. 

He tried the door. Locked, as expected. 

Yuuri climbed a tree with nimble limbs and waited.  It reminded him of a hunting expedition he had gone on with Viktor and Yakov. The boys had climbed a tree and sat on it’s branches for hours in an anticipatory silence, totally unseen by the world below, perfectly camouflaged. Finally a rabbit had stumbled into the clearing at their feet. Yuuri could hear it rustling through the undergrowth, the air so still for once that the life of the forest was all he could hear for miles. Viktor had raised his bow, all perfect lines and devastating danger, taken a deep breath and shot the creature right through the eye. It had been dead before it had the presence of mind to sense any threat.

Yuuri had been little more than a spectator that day, but he was the hunter now. Quickly, while he waited, he snapped a small branch off the tree and stripped it quietly and efficiently until he held a small, and quite frankly dodgy looking arrow shaft. He gripped it in his hands, eyes on the door. 

After a moment, it opened. A servant stepped out, bundled against the brisk night air, and as she passed through, Yuuri checked the hallway was empty from his vantage point. All clear. He took aim, took a deep breath, and released, throwing the stick with pinpoint accuracy.

It landed on the threshold, just as the door swung closed, wedging it open. The servant headed off down the road, and once they were out of sight, Yuuri dropped to the ground, crossed to the door and slipped through, toeing his stick out of the way as he did and let the door swing shut behind him.

Yakov’s training hadn’t gone to waste after all.

He moved quickly, heart and feet pounding out a beat of  _ Vik-tor, Vik-tor, Vik-tor _ . He bypassed the kitchens, the only part of the servants area still active at this time, and started listening for signs of life. He crept down corridors with caution, cursing his helmet for it's limited field of vision and the weird way it muffled sound. Finally, he tore it off his head with a grimace and immediately felt the relief of it wash over him. 

He passed the complex of rooms he remembered belonging to his mother and her ladies with a pang of regret. She had been one of the most singularly kind figures of his childhood and he missed her fiercely. If anyone knew what to say about Viktor being missing, if anyone knew what to do to make Yuuri feel better about this whole awful situation, it was her. 

He stopped at her door anyway, listening for... something. Her voice? Viktor's voice? He wasn't sure. He heard laughter, high, joyous and female, filter through the wood and had to blink back tears. She was probably in there, eating dinner, chatting with her friends, doing whatever it was that she did in her spare time. Yuuri's heart ached with the nostalgia of that sound, so thick in the air he choked on it.

With a shake of his head, Yuuri stepped back. The one thing he couldn't hear through that door was Viktor. He was there for a reason and he had to remember that. Besides, Yuuri couldn't imagine a sea goddess like Viktor's mother entrusting the captivity of the Crown Prince of Phthia to the Queen of Hasetsu. For one, Queen Hiroko was too soft to be an effective jailer. Viktor would have found it far too easy to persuade her to let him go. Also, Hiroko answered to Toshiya and Yuuri suspected that Toshiya didn't even know Viktor was here at all. For one thing, it would be suicide for any king to deliberately hold Viktor hostage. Especially considering the King of Phthia was the sort of man who would go to war with little provocation. If a child-king like Michele of Sparta was willing to go against Troy for the sake of his sister, the warrior-king ruler of Phthia would trample Hasetsu in a heartbeat if Toshiya had conspired with Viktor's mother to keep Viktor from reaching the battlefield at Troy.

No, Hiroko would not be the one keeping Viktor hostage.

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The question, of course, was if not his mother, then who? 

Footsteps stumbled suddenly to a halt behind him. Something shattered on the floor by his feet. Yuuri froze in terror, heart racing like it was trying to fit a lifetime's worth of beats into a single moment.

Then, a voice breathed, _'_ _ Yuuri?' _  and Yuuri's whole world crumpled.

Yuuri didn't move. He imagined soldiers descending on him, waited for the press of a blade to his back. Being arrested before he found Viktor had not been an option. 

'Yuuri? Is it really you?' a hand brushed his bare elbow, the touch gentle, almost reverent, and Yuuri choked back a sob. 'Turn around. Please?'

Yuuri's feet shuffled in a half circle until he found himself looking into his mother's brown eyes as if his thoughts had summoned her there. He wasn't sure whether he should be thanking the Fates or cursing them for his luck. 'Okaa-san?'  Hiroko didn't move. She looked like she hadn't truly expected Yuuri to be there and now she was looking at him properly neither of them knew what to do. 'I... I know I'm not supposed to be here,' he began awkwardly. 'But please don't call the guards.'

'Oh, my boy,' Hiroko cried and reached out for him. Yuuri found himself falling into her embrace, shocked to find that he was now at least a head taller than her. 'Come,' she said after a moment and took his hand, dragging him into an empty room.  It was the music room, unlit, with a view of the mountain and the stars through the window. Every surface was dusty. 'Why are you here, Yuuri?'

Yuuri wasn't sure where to begin. 'There is someone here I need to find,' he began. 'He is... very important to me. I am sworn to protect him, but he was taken-'

'Who is it?' Hiroko pressed. 'Perhaps I can help you find him.' 

'His name is Viktor. He's-'

'-The prince of Phthia.' 

'I- yes. Fath- Toshiya can't know he was here. You don't know the king of Phthia like I do. If he thought Hasetsu was willingly involved-'

Hiroko held up her hands. 'I understand. I haven't heard of any prince here, but...' she smiled wryly for a moment. 'Tell me, does your prince have silver hair?'

Yuuri surged toward her. 'Yes! Have you seen him?'

Hiroko shook her head. 'No, but my ladies have been gossiping. Young Yuuko has a new attentant. Foreign looking, beautiful silver hair.'

'Where is Yuuko?' Yuuri demanded. 

'Dancing for our guests, probably. She has been working on some new routines.'

Yuuri let out a sigh of relief and kissed his mother on the forehead. 'Thank you, okaa-san. Thank you so much!' He made to leave. If what his mother said was true, Viktor would be in the main hall Yuuri had just left. Perhaps the gods were smiling down on them after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so historically, each city state in ancient greece had its own culture and everything (also lowkey hated each other when they weren't beating up barbarians), which is why the united army of greeks is quite a big deal. So I've been trying to combine the commonalities of greek culture with some of Hasetsu/japanese culture. I am not particularly well-versed in the latter so please please forgive me for any faux-pas or anything that might have occurred in this chapter.


	12. Beneath the veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know it has been actual decades since I last posted and I'm sorry??? Life and health got in the way so I had to prioritise my writing time on other projects but here is the next chapter anyway!
> 
> This chapter has warnings for graphic violence/mentions of blood so be warned.
> 
> Also, this was mostly written on my phone so please forgive any typos

There were three soldiers waiting for Yuuri by the front doors when he returned, just as Christophe had planned. At their feet were two chests full of gifts- bribes, really, a smokescreen to hide Christophe’s real intentions. All they had to do was make Toshiya believe they were visiting in the hope of convincing him to send troops to Troy. If Toshiya found out about Viktor, things could escalate very quickly. Thankfully, though Phthia was a small city, it was also very rich.

Yuuri grasped the side handle of the heaviest chest and another soldier took the other side. Together they marched towards the dining hall doors. They waited out on the veranda for only a few minutes before the doors were opened from the inside and they were ushered through.

‘Gifts,’ Chris announced. ‘For my gracious host, with the hope that we can be good friends.’

The chests were set down in the middle of the hall. The other chest was opened first, full of fine fabrics.

‘For your ladies,’ Chris gestured grandly, sending a charming smile their way. Yuuri was pretty sure he was enjoying himself.

A group of girls were all huddled in a corner of the room to watch the proceedings. They gasped as they took in the sight before them. A few even rushed to the chest, exclaiming their delight. Yuuri spotted Yuuko at the center of the group. The last time he had seen his friend, she had been barely twelve and crying over Takeshi’s body.

Yuuri caught a glimpse of silver hair among the throng. He was suddenly aware of a pounding in his ears. Blue eyes seemed to meet his for a moment, but they were gone in a flash.

Yuuri opened the second chest and the silver-haired girl went still, staring at the contents.

‘And for your armoury.’

The chest was full of bronze; breastplates and daggers, swords and shields, all beautifully decorated. The silver haired girl made as if to reach out and touch this new bounty, but Yuuri let the lid close before she had the chance.

This time, there was no mistaking the pale blue eyes that sought his, questioning, hopeful.

_Viktor._

One of the swords had been Viktor’s, after all. Before anyone could notice the odd behaviour of one of Yuuko’s “ladies”, Toshiya clapped his hands.

‘A very generous gift indeed,’ he said wryly. ‘A dance, then, to celebrate new friendships?’

Yuuko and her girls stood up and gathered in the center of the floor. The chests and their escorts, including Yuuri, were swept back to the edges of the room to watch.

Yuuko clapped out a beat and somewhere in the corner, music started playing; a flute and a lyre. The hall burst into a flurry of movement. Girls in long silk dresses and gauzy veils danced for the congregation in swirls of bright colour. Yuuko was in the center; beautiful, radiant, dancing with the other girls like she was born to do nothing but that. She broke away from the group as they fragmented into pairs, making a beeline for Christophe. He raised an eyebrow at her but allowed her to take his hand and bring him into the dance.

Chris moved with a magnetism that was infectious, and had many of the girls giggling within moments. Yuuri forced himself to look away and scan the crowd of people. Hiroko had said that Viktor would be here somewhere, he just needed to find him.

A flash of silver darted across the hall floor.

Yuuri clenched his fist in an effort to remain still and neutral as he finally found who he had been looking for.

Viktor blended astonishingly well with the dancers around him. His long pale hair was braided in the same elaborate style as many of the other girls. Wisps of it clung to the bared skin of his neck and floated around his face, blending in seamlessly with the veil that obscured his features from view. His frame was still slight with the memory of childhood and he was most definitely the tallest of Yuuko’s retinue but it didn’t matter. He carried himself with the sort of grace that allowed him to disappear into the confusion.

Yuuri watched as he danced around the hall towards him, all the while maintaining as composed an air of indifference as he could muster.

‘What a handsome soldier,’ Viktor murmured, reaching out to him. ‘I must dance with you.’

Without thinking, Yuuri took his hand. Yuuri had to stop himself from gaping. Did Viktor _recognise_ him?

Then another, less welcome thought. If Viktor recognised him, who else did?

‘ _Yuuuuuuri_ ,’ Viktor purred low in his throat, voice right beside his ear. Yuuri felt some of the tension melt from his shoulders at the sound. ‘I knew you’d come for me.’ Viktor’s words were like magic, pressed so close Yuuri would have been able to correctly identify him even if he was both deaf and blind. For a moment, Yuuri was able to forget that they were smack in the middle of his childhood home turned enemy territory, that they were surrounded by people who couldn’t know who they were. For a beautiful moment, it was just him and Viktor and the music.

Then Chris met Yuuri’s gaze from across the hall and sent him a questioning look.

_Is that him?_

The spell was broken. Yuuri nodded, as subtly as he could manage still in his helmet.

_It’s him._

‘Shhhhh,’ Yuuri finally managed to hiss as he frantically tried to cobble a coherent thought together. He had found Viktor. Now they had to get out of there before they were both caught.

The song ended all too soon and the hall burst into applause and cheers.

'What's the escape plan?' Viktor asked under the cover of the noise.

'Just... follow Chris’ lead,' Yuuri muttered.

'A beautiful dance,' Christophe complimented the king.

'Thank you,' Toshiya bowed his head.

A soldier entered the hall bearing Hasetsu's colours and muttered something in Toshiya's ear. The king paled and went completely still. His eyes scanned the room quickly. He shooed the man away with a distracted wave of his hand.

'As you know, Christophe,' Toshiya began gravely. Yuuri flinched at the undercurrent of anger in his voice. Yuuri had only seen his father truly angry on a handful of occasions. The sound chilled him. 'My court has the noble reputation for being particularly gracious and generous hosts. Have I not been so to you this evening?'

Christophe appeared to have picked up on Toshiya's sudden change of mood as well. 'Of course, Your Majesty,' Chris bowed his head. 'You have indeed lived up to your reputation.'

Beside Yuuri, Viktor stiffened as if sensing a fight. The atmosphere had gone from revelrous to charged with tension in a matter of seconds. Some of Hasetsu’s guards shifted in their armour.

'I should hope so,' Toshiya replied, still with that deceptively calm tone. 'In that case, would you do me the honour of divulging the truth behind your visit tonight?'

'Good king, I don't know what you mean,' Christophe said and Yuuri could see the exact moment Toshiya snapped.

'I want to know what you are doing here _with my son_!' Toshiya was in his feet, face redder than Yuuri had ever seen it. Viktor grabbed Yuuri's arm in a painfully tight grip, fingers digging into the flesh of his forearm.

Christophe sighed. 'Alright,' he said. 'I admit, I came here under false pretenses but it is not what you think and I know nothing of any Hasetsu Prince.'

' _I do not believe you_ ,' Toshiya spat.

'I am here for a Prince,' Chris admitted. 'But not yours.'

'Explain yourself.'

'Viktor, Prince of Phthia is here against his will,' Christophe announced. 'Viktor, would you mind stepping forward my friend?'

Viktor glanced at Yuuri but stepped up to Christophe’s side, removing his veil. The gathered congregation, excluding Yuuko and some of her ladies, gasped. Yuuri caught a glimpse of his face, as much a mask as the veil had been, expression hard as steel, eyes defiant and proud. He dared anyone in the room to question him.

Toshiya was momentarily flummoxed. 'I- _what_?'

'Your Majesty,' Viktor inclined his head respectfully, but his eyes never wavered.

'What is the meaning of this?' Toshiya demanded, still red faced. "What is a Prince doing here in the retinue of my ward?' he pointed a finger at Viktor. 'I should have you arrested for such a violation.'

Yuuri made to step forward to intervene but Chris beat him to it. 'Your Majesty, you must understand, Viktor was not here if his own accord-'

'Let the Prince speak for himself,' Toshiya said quickly. 'I do not doubt you have a head full of explanations.'

Viktor took a step toward Toshiya. 'Good king,' he said. 'Neither I nor your ward are at fault in this. I am sure that rumours of my parentage have reached the shores of Hasetsu-'

'How do you know this?'

'My closest friend is an expatriate of your beautiful city,' Viktor replied. 'The point is that the rumours are true. My mother is a sea goddess. It was she who kidnapped me and brought me here against my will. She employed your ward as an accomplice. Would you punish a young girl simply for the crime of following divine orders?'

Toshiya eyed Viktor warily but Yuuri could tell the king wanted to believe him. 'Yuuko, my girl, is this true?'

Yuuko bowed low. 'Yes, Toshiya-sama. Every word of it.'

Toshiya looked between Yuuko and Viktor for a moment. 'Very well. I will take your word for it. Unfortunately, I cannot let you depart at your leisure. A fugitive of Hasetsu has been spotted in the residences bearing Ithacan armour. Until he is apprehended, I am afraid no one can leave this palace.'

Christophe and Viktor both remained nonchalantly still, but Yuuri had to fight to retain control of his breathing. Someone must have seen him leave the music room and sneak back out the servants entrance. He tried to reconcile with the fact that they might get Viktor out alive, but his own chances were swiftly dwindling.

'Are you sure you are not mistaken?' Christophe asked after a moment. 'I know of no criminals in my ranks.'

One of the guards stepped forward. 'And what of murderers?'

Viktors impassive gaze turned cold. 'Some would say murder is a soldier's duty, no?'

The soldier made an aborted attempt to surge forward but Toshiya forestalled him with a wave of his hand. 'Only the murder of enemies,' he spat.

'Easy, soldier,' Toshiya admonished.

'My apologies, Toshiya-sama,' the soldier replied. 'But can you not see they are hiding something?'

Toshiya sighed. 'There is an easy way to settle this. Order your men to remove their helmets. If you are telling the truth you have nothing to fear.'

Christophe nodded gravely. To his men, he said, 'Do as the king says.' Yuuri stared at him, betrayal lancing his heart.

'No,' Viktor countermanded. Viktor looked in Yuuri's direction. 'The man you speak of is my therapon. He is under my protection. You will let us both pass from this place unmolested.'

'You dare order a king, Prince?' Toshiya asked, voice calm. 'You are more foolish than your reputation would suggest.'

'Shall I arrest them, Toshiya-sama?' the soldier from before asked.

Toshiya watched the room for a moment. All the Hasetsu guards were on high alert, the tension radiating from them pulled taught as a bowstring. Yuuri was hyperaware that Chris and his men were severely outnumbered.

'Yes.'

The room erupted into chaos. The Hasetsu soldiers dived towards Viktor and Chris. At the same time, Chris' own men surged forward to intercept. Yuuri sprinted across the floor to throw himself in the path of the soldier who had spoken - who had made a beeline straight for Viktor. Yuuri raised his sword and his blade collided with his opponents with a screech. Behind him, Yuuri heard Chris shout, 'Viktor!' and the clatter of the chest full of weapons being thrown open.

'Well, this is new,' Viktor murmured from just behind Yuuri, and Yuuri caught a glimpse of silver hair coming free of it's bindings as Viktor jumped into the fray.

Yuuko and her ladies screamed as they ran for cover. Yuuri shoved off the Hasetsu guard and blocked another blow coming at him from his right. Viktor’s voice was inside his head, offering instruction as they had done in practice, directing his blade and his body.

Viktor twirled past in a whirlwind of deadly bronze, flashing silver and brightly coloured silks, cutting down opponents before they could land a single blow. Yuuri could barely see him with his helmet on, but he trusted Viktor’s ability with a sword more than almost anything else.

It was his own abilities which appeared to be severely lacking. both Viktor and Yuuri were untested in real battle. All their sparring had been accompanied by easy banter and wild grins.

Yuuri had never had to fight for his life before. Viktor, at least, had divine blood on his side and a soldier's heart. The last time Yuuri had felt like such a scared little bit had been the last time he had been in this very hall. Yuuri's sword arm faltered.

The blow to his shoulder hit solid armour, but it was enough to knock him off his feet. His helmet wrenched free as the soldier towered over him, a look of recognition crossing his face as his sword came down-

-and never landed. The soldier's arms flailed as he collapsed, blood spurting from vicious slices to the backs of his ankles, where the shin guards did not cover. Viktor stood behind him, eyes wild as he took in Yuuri's terrified, pale face.

'Are you hurt?' He demanded, kneeling at Yuuri’s side.

'No, I-'

'Are you sure?'

'Viktor, stop!'

'Answer the question!'

'Viktor behind you!' Yuuri reached for his fallen weapon as Viktor ducked. His blade met the one that had been aimed at Viktors back and stopped it short. Viktor, practically pressed against Yuuri's armoured chest to avoid the strike twisted and thrust upwards with his own weapon. The angle allowed the sword to slip underneath the man's breastplate and be buried to the hilt. The man gurgled and slumped. Red gushed down the blade, coating Viktors hands in it, and Yuuri choked against the stench and the memories it brought.

With inhuman strength, Viktor pushed the dead soldier off them and turned back to face Yuuri. He reached for Yuuri's face, but Yuuri slapped his hands away in horror, recoiling at the stain on them.

'Yuuri?' Viktor pressed and it was at that moment Yuuri heard the hall go silent. Toshiya stood behind Viktor, staring down at Yuuri with a familiar expression.

Hands pulled Viktor off him. More shoved him up and on his knees. A blade missed his throat. Viktors expression was ashen as he knelt next to him, staring between Yuuri and the king.

'I told you what would happen if you ever returned here,' he said quietly.

'I know,' Yuuri replied. 'I’m sorry.'

'This brings me no joy, son,' Toshiya said and one look at his devastated brown eyes and Yuuri believed him. 'I am so very sorry.'

Toshiya looked up up at what remained of his men. 'Relieve them of their weapons and bind their hands. I wish to speak with them before they are executed.'

Yuuri's vision blurred. His pulse pounded in his ears. Beside him, Christophe was forced to his knees. On the other side, Viktor’s breathing was ragged, angry.

Rope was wound around Yuuri's wrists and secured behind his back. Viktor and Chris were given the same treatment. Once it was done, Toshiya said, 'Leave us.'

'But, sir-' one of the men protested.

'Leave,' Toshiya repeated and they were alone with the dead.

'Your Majesty,' Christophe began. 'You must see reason-'

'I have no desire to kill you,' Toshiya interrupted, holding up his hand. He had eyes for none but Yuuri. 'My son...' He switched to the language of Hasetsu. 'How you have grown.'

Tears spilled down Yuuri’s cheeks. 'Father...' he whispered in the same language, voice thick. It was the closest he and Toshiya could get to privacy. The word felt rusty in his mouth, disused for so many years. 'I am sorry.'

'You have made a life for yourself in Phthia, yes?' Toshiya asked. 'You are happy?'

Yuuri looked at Viktor. The other man's brows were drawn together in confusion and panic. 'Yes,' Yuuri replied. It was true, if not the whole truth. 'I am.'

'That is all I ever hoped for,' Toshiya replied. 'Hasetsu was never as kind to you as it should have been and for that I am sorry. This Prince seems to have treated you much better, if you were willing to risk your life to save him.'

'I have been Viktor's closest companion since I arrived in Phthia. He has been very kind to me. I care for him very much.'

Toshiya nodded. He switched back to the common tongue; 'Then you three must listen very carefully.'

Minutes later, Toshiya screamed and the guards came rushing in to find the room empty except for their king.

'They escaped!' Toshiya cried and the guards streamed out of the front doors, spilling into the surrounding countryside.

By the time they reached the beach, Yuuri, Chris and Viktor were long gone.

* * *

Safely aboard an Ithacan ship, Viktor was enthusiastically greeted by his men. Still wearing the tattered remains of his borrowed dress, hair half pinned up and the rest cascading over his shoulders, with a smile bright as the moon, he hardly seemed like a real person. Yuuri turned away from the scene and gripped the railing of the deck in his hands, staring out over the water and trying not to throw up. Adrenaline or divine providence had kept the worst of the panic at bay back when falling apart meant death but now he was safe and there was nothing holding the tidal wave back. Before it crashed down, he noticed his hands were shaking. Then he was pulled under.

Yuuri flinched at the hands that were placed gently on his shoulders as the ragged breathing started, quick and desperate. Viktor said something that he couldn't make out and he fell to the wooden deck. He found himself curled with his knees to his chest and his back against the solid railing as the tremors started.

He and Viktor had nearly died and it was his fault for getting spotted in the first place. He’d had a conversation with his _parents_ for the first time in _years_. He had thought his father was going to kill him, only for the king to let them go.

Yuuri felt a hand press against his shoulder, just enough to tip him sideways slightly. He felt an arm slip around his shoulders and pull him close. Viktor.

So much had happened in just a few hours but they had _survived_.

'I th-thought I'd-I'd lost you,' Yuuri hiccupped and Viktor held him tighter, let Yuuri bury his face in Viktor’s chest.

'I thought I'd lost you too,' Viktor replied, his own voice thick. 'But don't worry. I won't let it happen again.' He peppered the top of Yuuri’s head with kisses.

Yuuri felt his breathing slow. The smell of blood invaded his nose and he pushed away from Viktor. 'You're covered in blood!' Yuuri gasped.

Viktor looked down at himself, shrugged, and pulled the dress off, rubbing his hands on his thighs to get the worst of the dried gore off. 'It's not mine.'

Yuuri huffed a wet laugh and wiped his eyes. Viktor was kneeling in front of him, deshevelled but alive and entirely too far away. He threw his arms around his best friend’s neck and half laughed half sobbed onto his shoulder.

'I missed you,' Yuuri admitted, smiling now. He pulled back and took in the sight once more.

Viktor pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and grinned. 'I missed you too.'

They sat like that for a long time, clinging to one another as dawn began to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought the ending was a bit too melodramatic and then I remembered how Canon Viktuuri acted after being apart for like a day during the Rostelecom cup. Then I thought maybe it wasnt melodramatic enough. 
> 
> Seriously. These two will end up being my cause of death.
> 
> Next chapter: Troy!


	13. Tell me muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly scheduled (?) Viktuuri and Friends to bring you... How The Other Side Lives: Trojan Edition!  
> Now featuring lesbians because why write Sara/Paris when you can write Sara/Mila
> 
> Also, Seer!Otabek because why not? And JJ "being a king is hard" Leroy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's not dead! Me. Sorry for the gap between this update and the last. The last month was kinda a mess but I'm back and so are most of the YOI ensemble! 
> 
> A note on JJ, because it probably needs saying. In Greek Mythology Agamemnon, JJ's role in this fic, is a Grade A Dickwad. He just creates problems and makes people mad and murders people. No one was surprised when he got murdered by his wife when he came home from the war.
> 
> Anyway, I don't want to make JJ into That Guy, so we're doing things a bit differently. So I apologize JJ girls (and also Greek Myth Purists because I'm straight up fucking with mythology now oops) but things aren't going to be sunshine and rainbows for our Canadian King. Also, please bear with me if JJ seems a little OOC this chapter? I'm still working him out because I've never really paid much attention to this character before and also I'm trying to do Character Development so yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> May xx
> 
> (P.S. if you wanna scream about YOI or Greek Mythology, just message me/send me an ask at trebelandbass.tumblr.com )

Sara looked out of the window of her bedroom and wondered idly if she were on the wrong side of the Troy’s great walls. The palace was near the center of the city. From her window she could see the high city walls, the steep green slopes that lead down to the beach, and beyond that, the sea stretching out onto the horizon. It was a beautiful view, but there was something missing.

Her brothers had arrived at the palace a mere week after she had. They had come alone, begging for Sara’s return, offering ransoms, alliances, promises she knew they couldn’t keep. Not even the wealth of Sparta could stretch as far as they had.

_ 'Sara, please!’ Mickey begged, turning to her once Paris declined to release her back into her brother’s custody. ‘Come home. We need you. I need you. I cannot live without you. Please.’ _

_ ‘Oh, Mickey...’ she had sighed, torn between sadness and anger. She looked between her brothers. Philip, the youngest, his brown eyes imploring as he stood next to the man he had pledged his life to. Christophe, not technically her brother, but close enough, with his ever-flowing stream of witty and suggestive remarks running dry. JJ, her brother by marriage, the fight in his eyes at odds with the calm confidence written on his face. Then, Mickey, the eldest, with more than just concern for his family weighing him down, threatening to throw away their kingdom, their home in order to get her back. ‘I cannot come home. Not yet. You need to find a way to rule without me.’ _

_ 'No, Sara! You can’t!’ _

_ ‘This is  _ my  _ life Mickey! Not yours!’ she snapped. Paris had taken hold of her wrist at some point, either in a show of possessiveness or a restraining hold. She barely even noticed. _

_ ‘Do you love him?’ Philip had asked. Of all people, he would be the one to understand what she was doing. He had left Sparta years ago to become Christophe’s closest companion. Philip knew about making sacrifices in order to be happy. _

_ ‘Yes,’ Sara lied. _

She had been promised by a goddess that if she went to Troy with Paris she would find love. At first, it had felt like an adventure, finally free of the confines of the palace in Sparta, finally doing something for herself - and with a handsome prince on her arm no less. By the time she reached Troy, the thrill had faded and with it, her affection for the Trojan prince. More than once, she had considered asking to be returned home, but she still had faith. A promise from a goddess was not to be lightly discarded. If Paris was not the one she was meant to be with, then there must be someone else in the city she was meant to find.

Sara glanced at the door. Ever since her brothers’ visit she had been kept under guard, but surely there was some other way out. She just needed to figure it out, then she could go exploring the city.

Her opportunity came with a knock on the door a few hours after lunch a few weeks into her stay. 

‘Enter,’ Sara called. 

A red-headed girl around Sara’s age walked in, the door closing behind her. She smiled. ‘You’re Sara, Princess of Sparta,’ she said through a distinctive accent. 

Sara nodded, curiosity piqued. ‘Who are you?’

The girl grinned and held out a hand for Sara to take. ‘My name is Mila, this used to be my room. Do you want to go for a walk with me?’ 

* * *

‘Thank you for saving me,’ Viktor whispered, tracing the line of Yuuri's collarbone with one long pale index finger. Yuuri's smaller hands played with the shadows cast by the light filtering in through the window of their shared quarters. He lay on his back, looking up at the rafters of their little cabin, trying and failing not to think ahead to what awaited them when they reached landfall. The games of kings and gods were too selfish and convoluted for Yuuri to properly comprehend and if he was being honest with himself, he was afraid. He could feel Viktor’s gaze on him, but for some reason Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. The question that had plagued him since Viktor’s return gnawed at his heart.

_ Had his selfish desire to be with Viktor condemned him, the one person Yuuri desired to protect above all others? _

‘Do you think I saved you?’ he asked quietly. The joy of seeing Viktor again had given way to something softer, like contentment, but with the absence of relief came the weight of what they had left Hasetsu to do. There was no going back now. Not for Viktor, and that meant not for Yuuri either.

Viktor took Yuuri's hands, stilling his fingers and Yuuri finally turned his head to look at him. ‘You saved me from a life I did not want, that would have made me miserable. You saved me from a life without you.’

‘But the Fates said-’

‘The Fates will just have to change their minds,’ Viktor insisted. ‘We will just have to make them.’

Yuuri frowned. ‘Viktor, I don't think it works like that.’

Viktor propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Yuuri. There was something in his blue eyes, like fire. A determination that brokered no argument. ‘Why not?’

And there was that smile that Yuuri had missed so much. Bow-shaped and blindingly bright. It was difficult to argue with that smile and Viktor knew it. He had spent the last few years honing it into something that could disarm Yuuri in a flash. Freely given but no less devastating for its frequency. Even more so, now that Yuuri was allowed to kiss it right off his face.

He didn't though. Instead, he fixed Viktor with a stare. ‘Fate is Fate. Not even you can argue with it.’

Viktor’s lovable smile turned into something sharper, a hint of the divine danger that flowed in his veins. His eyes were alight with that almost golden something that came over him sometimes, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. It was not defiance, exactly, but a reckless belief, the certainty of his own invincibility.

‘Watch me. ’

* * *

A call rang through the ship at the first sign of sails on the horizon. Yuuri, Viktor and Chris arrived on deck just as the Phthian colours became distinguishable from the blue sky, still pale with the remnants of winter in the air. They were much farther south than Phthia and the air was warmer, but the sun was not yet strong enough to burn off all the morning mist.

They had reached the rendezvous with the other Phthian ships.

Viktor stood at the very head of the ship, looking more princely than Yuuri had ever seen him. He was a man now, not the young boy that had found him in that storeroom in Phthia, not the child Yuuri had first seen streaking across the sand in a race he could never lose.

Standing there, head held high, the silver hair flowing freely down his shoulders more of a symbol of his heritage than the golden circlet on his brow and in full ceremonial armour, it was almost as if Viktor was the figurehead of the ship, eyes scanning the waves for any sign of danger, still carrying with him that aura of danger and invincibility.

Yuuri stepped up to come and stand beside him, dressed in similar, though far less grand armour of leather and bronze. In a fight, Yuuri thought that perhaps his would be more practical, but there would be no battles today. Not the physical kind, at least.

A signal went up in a cloud of smoke and the other ships diverted their course to join them for the last few miles to Aulis.

‘We shall make landfall before the sun sets,’ Chris announced, coming to stand on Viktor’s other side. ‘JJ and Michele will be waiting for you.’

‘Let them wait,’ said Yuuri in a fit of boldness. Viktor smiled at him and wrapped his arms around Yuuri's shoulders.

Chris raised an eyebrow at Yuuri from over Viktor’s shoulder. ‘You can’t keep him from the world, Yuuri, it’s not fair for the rest of us.’

Yuuri gaped and then registered Christophe’s salacious smile. He blushed furiously. ‘I’m not... I- So what if I-’

Viktor and Chris both burst into laughter.

* * *

A forest of masts awaited them at Aulis. The bay was bristling with them, so thick it was difficult to see through to the land beyond the shore. When the Phthian ships finally made landfall near where the bay met open sea, Yuuri could see what he had missed before. Beyond the ships lay a massive stretch of open field, covered in tents of all shapes, sizes and colours. They stretched as far as the eye could see. Soldiers moved between them, patrolling, preparing for the final leg of the journey, or else just mingling in clumps as humans were want to do whenever they gathered in large numbers. 

The majority of the activity was in the center of the tent-city. People- servants, soldiers and kings alike, bustled to and from the largest, most grandiose tent of all. Viktor and Chris headed straight towards it, accompanied by Emil, who had been commanding one of the other ships, and one of Christophe’s commanders who had met him when they landed.

The sight of Viktor in full regalia was enough to have the guards at the entrance scrambling to let them through and announce their arrival. Yuuri was very nearly jostled in the confusion, but once they were announced, they stepped inside without incident. 

The interior of the tent was pleasantly warm and lit with cheerful torches. It was set up as a cross between a general’s headquarters and lavish bedchamber, complete with a screened bed covered in soft pillows and woven tapestries depicting the exploits of heroes. A young girl sat on a cushion on the floor near a smaller bed, veiled and paging through a book.

Taking up the majority of the view was a long wooden table covered in bread, cups of wine and scrolls of papyrus. Lounging at the center of the table, was a young man with black hair wearing a rather ostentatious golden crown. To his right, another child-king with auburn hair and violet eyes sat upright and alert. The rest of the table’s occupants seemed to be seated in order of rank, radiating outward from the king in the center.

‘King JJ, it is a pleasure to see you again,’ Chris greeted, though Yuuri suspected by now that it was not all genuine.

‘Prince Viktor,’ JJ smiled. It was a broad thing full of teeth and challenge, confidence and charm in equal measure. ‘It is nice of you to finally join us.’

Viktor’s face was entirely blank, his eyes hard. ‘Yes, sorry for the delay.’

If the King of Mycenae was offended by the lack of deferential address, he did not show it. ‘Come, sit with us. We were just having dinner as we went over our plans for the invasion. If the wind comes up, we'll set off tomorrow morning at first light. We need to get you two caught up.’

Viktor nodded once, slowly. ‘Of course.’

‘You can send your manservant to set up your tent,’ JJ said with a dismissive glance at Yuuri standing at the back of the party. He hadn’t noticed he’d been creeping slowly away from the table full of royalty. ‘You will not need him here, just your highest ranked generals.’

Viktor’s smile was all teeth. ‘If you mean my Second-In-Command, I’m afraid he stays.’

JJ snorted, his full attention finally falling on Yuuri. Yuuri squared his shoulders and forced himself to meet the King’s eyes. ‘You, boy. Can you even lift a sword?’

‘I can,’ Yuuri refused to let the king's words affect him. He had spent his childhood in Hasetsu being constantly underestimated. He was used to this, but he was done hiding from the misjudgment of people he had never met before. He made himself take the two steps forward to join Viktor. ‘I was trained by Yakov.’

JJ blinked. ‘And what is your name, then?’ he asked.

‘Yuuri,’ Yuuri replied. Just Yuuri. His visit to Hasetsu had not changed that.

‘Yuuri who?’ one of the others pressed. He was sitting to JJ’s left, an empty chair between himself and the king.

‘ _ Philtatos _ ,’ Viktor said. Yuuri whipped his head around to stare at him. ‘That is what I call him.’ It meant  _ dearest one _ .  _ Most beloved. _ Viktor stared defiantly at the table of kings and princes, daring them to contradict him, daring them to ask.

‘Just Yuuri is fine,’ Yuuri clarified. ‘I am my own man. I have no other name but what is given to me by those who know me best.’

JJ cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Well then,’ he said. ‘Join us, Prince Viktor, Prince Christophe, Yuuri. there is a lot to catch you up on if we are to leave at first light tomorrow.’ 

Someone, barely older than a boy, dark-skinned with slate grey eyes and long lashes, sitting at the very end of the table, giggled behind his hand. He was mostly ignored, but their eyes met across the table and Yuuri smiled back at him.

Christophe stepped forward to take the seat to JJ’s left. Yuuri caught Viktor’s arm before he could follow, and leaned in close to his ear so they wouldn’t be overheard. ‘You don’t call me- you don’t call me  _ that _ .’

Viktor smirked, a quirk of the lips small enough to be private in a room full of people. ‘Well, not out loud I don’t. Yet.’

He removed himself from Yuuri’s grip, sauntering over to the table to take the seat next to Christophe, vacated by the brown haired boy who had spoken up earlier and was now sitting at the end of the table on the other side, head close to another young auburn haired prince. Yuuri spluttered in place for a moment, furiously fighting a blush. Viktor raised an eyebrow at him, both a question and command. Yuuri answered by moving to stand behind him.

‘Shall we start?’ the man to JJ’s right suggested. He had remained quiet until that point, but he spoke with an air of impatience.

JJ nodded, much more relaxed now Viktor wasn’t practically glaring at him. As plans were made, Viktor kept up a running commentary of who everyone was and where they were from. Yuuri ended up kneeling so they could talk to each other unnoticed.

‘That’s King Michele, Sara’s eldest brother,’ he murmured when the violet eyed man made a particularly dramatic gesture during a speech about honour in battle. ‘On Michele’s other side is Georgi, the king of Pylos. I don’t remember who the others are.’

‘Viktor, what are your supplies looking like after your diversion?’ Michele asked and Viktor had his attention diverted.

‘Hi,’ the boy sitting next to Yuuri whispered with a wave as JJ and Viktor started arguing. ‘I’m Phichit, prince of Aetolia. I have to say, it’s an honour to meet you both.’

Yuuri smiled at the younger boy’s excitement. ‘Good to meet you too, Phichit. But we should probably keep our voices down or JJ will start yelling at us too.’

‘It’s weird,’ Phichit whispered, much quieter. ‘JJ is usually so unruffled. Almost annoyingly so. I wonder what his problem is.’

‘We’re on the verge of war,’ Yuuri reasoned. ‘Everyone is feeling tense right now.’

‘I suppose,’ Phichit agreed.

The meeting didn’t finish until well after sundown. When the commanders finally dispersed for the night, the men had mostly gone to sleep. Yuuri had spent most of the night talking to Phichit and working with Chris to try and mediate arguments. The problem with an army whose generals were all kings and princes in their own right was that it was very difficult to get them to listen to anyone else’s orders. No one was taking JJ’s position as Commander-in-Chief too well, much to JJ’s vexation. Yuuri almost found himself sympathising with the man after a few hours of watching the Archaion kings butting heads.

By the end of it, Yuuri couldn’t wait to fall into bed and catch a few hours sleep before dawn, Viktor not far behind.

‘ _ Yuuuuuuuuuri _ ,’ Viktor murmured into his pillow after Yuuri closed his eyes.

‘Yeah, Viktor?’

‘If I killed JJ would you be mad at me?’

Yuuri snorted. ‘Yes.’

Viktor hummed, breath already slowing with sleep. ‘Alright then... Don’t want you to be mad at me...’

Yuuri’s finger stroked Viktor’s arm slung haphazardly across his stomach as he drifted off. When he dreamed, he dreamed of the sea.

* * *

Viktor and Yuuri were woken the next morning by shouts just before dawn. 

‘Stop! Come back!’

‘JJ you need to let me go!’

‘No!’

‘I’m trying to fix this! I’m doing this for you!’

Viktor glanced over at Yuuri blinking sleepily awake and leaped out of bed, pulling a tunic over his head and dashing outside. He followed the sound to where a crowd was beginning to gather. One look over his shoulder told him Yuuri was following, still rubbing his eyes.

The King himself stood at the entrance to his tent, half-dressed and looking distinctly distressed. Standing outside was the girl Viktor vaguely remembered from the previous night, the one who had been sitting in the corner of JJ’s tent for most of the night.

‘Come back inside and we can talk about this,’ JJ pleaded. The girl’s veil was gone, revealing black hair and eyes the same colour as JJ’s. ‘Please, Genia.’ 

‘Morooka is never wrong,’ the girl insisted. ‘It's what you brought him for.’

‘We’ll find another way,’ JJ promised.

Beside Viktor, Yuuri spotted Phichit a few paces away. ‘Phichit!’ he called and the young prince came bounding over. ‘Do you know what’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Who is the girl?’

‘That’s JJ’s sister,’ Phichit replied. ‘Iphigenia. She has been his ward since his father died and he ascended the throne. It’s why she’s here.’

‘I didn’t know he had a sister,’ Yuuri said quietly.

‘Why would you?’ Phichit asked. 

Yuuri hummmed. Viktor turned his thoughts back to the argument before them that was swiftly becoming a spectacle. ‘It’s nearly dawn,’ he said, noticing the rapidly lightening sky. ‘Shouldn’t we be getting ready to launch?’ 

Yuuri looked up curiously, eyes fixed on the trees near the outskirts of the camp. ‘No wind,’ he said. As soon as he said it, Viktor realised he was right. ‘We wouldn’t get anywhere. We can’t row all the way to Troy.’

‘She’ll kill you JJ!’ Iphigenia spat. ‘I won’t let that happen. Don’t worry, brother,’ she sent him the most sweetly simpering smile Viktor had ever seen. ‘She wouldn’t hurt me.’

JJ turned desperately to a man Viktor hadn’t noticed until that moment. The man was older than almost everyone else in the camp with wild dark brown hair and tanned skin like Yuuri’s. ‘Is this true?’ JJ asked. ‘Morooka, is it true?’

‘The Huntress has made her intentions clear,’ the man replied. ‘You took your men hunting in a sacred grove and killed a deer under her protection. She demands a life for a life. Preferably yours.’

JJ choked. ‘I... didn’t know. Supplies are limited until we get to Troy, I thought hunting would be a better alternative to rations.’

Morooka sent him a look. ‘So... you didn’t say “that’s JJ Style” when you brought it back for them?’

JJ slammed his mouth shut. Viktor would have snickered, but the distress on JJ’s face was obvious.

‘I would like to point out,’ Morooka said. ‘It was specified “a life for a life”, not “a death for a death.”’

‘What... what does that mean?’ JJ demanded.

‘It means that she won’t kill me,’ Iphigenia said. ‘It means she’ll keep me safe.’

Realisation dawned on JJ. ‘No! No, I won’t allow it.’

Viktor stepped out into the crowd. He didn’t like JJ. The times they had met in the past they had always butted heads and JJ’s ego was it’s own character to contend with, but Viktor was not totally indifferent to people’s suffering. And he _had_ dealt with the gods before. 

‘My lord,’ he said, stepping up to JJ’s shoulder. ‘Goddesses are stubborn. She will keep us all here until you make a decision.’ 

Chris appeared at Viktor’s other side. They watched the standoff between JJ and his sister, both wearing equally determined looks.

‘I was supposed to do this myself,’ JJ muttered. More to himself than anyone watching.

‘Listen, kid,’ Chris said. ‘You’re in charge here, you gotta make a decision. It's you or her.’

‘JJ...’ Genia stepped forward and took her brother’s hand. ‘I want to do this. Let me do this. You’ll get to go to Troy and I’ll be safe. I’ll be free. Can you imagine? Maybe she’ll let me go hunting with her.’

JJ swallowed thickly, looking down at her. Viktor watched the moment the decision was made. He stood up straighter, the emotion wiped from his face, replaced by a calm, confident expression. He patted her hair once then stepped away. 

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For your sacrifice, little sister. May your days be happy.’

Morooka gently took her hand and lead her away. The little girl was practically bouncing with excitement.

‘I hope you find what you’re looking for,’ she said over her shoulder and then she left.

When the winds finally picked up, Viktor emerged once more from his tent and headed for the Phthian flagship. As he took his favourite place on deck, Yuuri joined him, expression pensive.

‘Do you think she will be okay?’ Yuuri asked quietly. 

Viktor smiled. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard two little girls’ twin squeals of laughter, carried on the sea breeze.

‘I think she’ll be just fine.’

* * *

 

Otabek knew before anyone else. Otabek  _ knew _ like a flower knew the right time to bloom. He awoke that first morning with dread in his heart and the whispers of Fate still fading from his ears. He rose, dressed, and ran down the stairs to his father’s chamber. 

He was the youngest of king Priam’s sons, the illegitimate child of a mistress, but his father was a kind man and treated all his sons equally. If the same cannot be said for his only daughter, that is another matter, but Mila had never been a typical child, full of energy in a world where girls were meant to be demure. Mila raged in a world where girls were supposed to remain silent. Perhaps that was why she was cursed.

Today though none of it mattered. She met him at the door to their father’s audience chamber. They were very much alike, she and him, Otabek mused, barely a few months apart in age, both burdened with visions of the future. He saw his fear in his eyes even though hers were glistening and everything, down to the way she held her body, screamed that she wanted to fight any Archaion that came near. 

‘We won’t let them win,’ she said. It wasn’t a prophecy. Otabek would _know_. He knocked on the door and waited. ‘Promise me brother,’ she insisted. ‘Promise you won’t let them take Troy.’

Otabek sent her a look. One man could not promise the Fate of an entire city. She knew better than to expect him to lie.

Already he could feel threads of the future weaving together, building something so vast he could barely comprehend it. His gift weighed heavily on his mind. That sixth sense he had been blessed with whispered to him, propelling through the door.

His father waited, still in his nightclothes.

‘The Archaions,’ Mila began, but for once Otabek cut her off. This was too important to be second-guessed.

‘They’ll be here by mid-morning.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun fact: in Greek Mythology Iphigenia was the eldest daughter of Agamemnon and in most versions of the myth (I'm pretty sure, at least) when the Greeks try to set out from Aulis to Troy, Artemis takes away the wind so they can't go anywhere because Agamemnon was his usual asshole-y self and decided to kill a deer and then brag about being a better hunter than Artemis, the literal goddess of hunting and wild animals and such. She wasn't happy.  
> Somehow, Agamemnon decided that the best way to appease Artemis and get the wind back was to perform a sacrifice to her. So, because he is The Worst he chooses to sacrifice Iphigenia. In some legends though, Artemis (because she is also the patron goddess of young girls) takes pity on our girl and swaps her for a deer or a lamb or something. After that, Iphigenia either becomes the goddess Hekate, joins Artemis as her immortal companion or is taken somewhere safe.
> 
> I decided to go skip the middle-man, so to speak, with this fic and just have the deal be that she becomes Artemis' immortal companion in exchange for the wind and JJ not dying. Seemed fairer.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned!


End file.
